Tm^ 



PS 3525 
.02777 
M5 
1920 
Copy 1 



BAKER!S ^ ^ 

CTING PLAYS J 



yVmn qjeller 

(Jmds a Jrien^ 



%ice,25 Genu 



9iqyld})^lOM 




If^ WALTER H BAKER 8 CO -^ 
"fikk ■ . 'BOSTON- 1^5!^ 



Recent Plays That Have " Gone Over the Top " 



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BAEIERf 5 Hatntlton 


Place, Boston 


f Mass* 


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When a Feller Needs a 
Friend 

A Farce in Three Acts 






j/c/kcMULLEN 



NOTE 

The professional and moving picture rights in this play are 
strictly reserved and application for the right to produce it under 
these conditions should be made to the publishers. Amateurs 
may obtain permission to produce it privately upon payment of 
a fee of ten dollars ($10.00) for one performance, and $5.00 for 
each additional performance, payable in advance. All payments 
and correspondence should be addressed to Walter H. Baker 
& Co., 5 Hamilton place, Boston, Mass. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1920 



When a Feller Needs a Friend 



CHARACTERS 

[In order of appearance.) 

Tom Denker, an artist. 

Bob Mills, a viagazifte writer. 

Mrs. Reese, their iatidiady. 

Jerry Smith, Just rettcmed from "Over There,** 

Liz, Mrs. Reese s stepdaughter. 

•' BiNG " Dickson, Li^'s steady. 

William Denker, lorn s imcie. 

Alice King, Ihms aunt. 

Elaine Lynne, Alice King s ward, 

Angela Scott, BoU s fiancee. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. A room in Mrs. Reese's apartment house, lo : oo A. M. 
Act II. The same, ii : oo a. m. 
Act III. The same. 12 : 00 m. 

Time. A P>iday morning in November, 1919. 
Place. New York City. 




Copyright, 1920, by J. C. McMullen 
As author and proprietor. 

All stage and moving picture rights reserved. 

See note on title page. 

S'Ci.D S.'JSSl 
MAR ~2 1920 



COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 

Tom. a young man of twenty-five. First act should 
wear ordinary street clothes except that he should wear 
pajama coat instead of regular coat and vest. Should 
also have a bedspread pinned over his shoulders. During 
act one he is given coat and vest by Bob which should 
match pants he is already wearing. Should not change 
clothes during the play. 

Bob. Same age as Tom. First act wears pajama pants 
with coat and vest to match the pants worn by Tom. 
During first act is furnished complete suit by Jerry, which 
he wears during entire play. 

Jerry. Age twenty-five. First entrance should wear 
U. S. ofiicer's cap, leather puttees and long raincoat. 
Should have sheet wrapped around him so it will show 
when Bob opens his coat. During the first act he secures 
a suit much too large for him which he wears during the 
entire play. 

William Denker. A fussy, bossy man of fifty-five. 
Wears regulation business suit. 

** BiNG." An up-to-the-minute slangy chauffeur of 
about twenty-four. Should wear chauffeur's uniform 
during entire play. 

Mrs. Reese. A rather slovenly apartment house 
keeper. Her hair should be a trifle disarranged. Should 
wear not too clean wrapper and common gingham apron, 
the latter to be used during her crying spells. Has ear 
horn which she uses during entire play. Should be par- 
ticular in trying to get every one's conversation. Should 
be played in a high pitched voice. Her dress should be 
a little neater for the second and third act than for the 
first. Age about forty-five. 

Liz. a girl of twenty, slangy and able to care for 
herself. Should wear wrapper or kitchen dress, should 
not be too clean, apron, and have broom for first appear- 



4 NOTE 

ance. For last appearance of first act should change to 
cheap, gaudy dress made in the most extreme style. 
Hair should be very elaborate, ear rings, bracelet, etc. 

Aunt. A neat, motherly woman of fifty. Traveling 
dress. 

Elaine. | Girls of twenty -two or twenty - three. 



Angela. I Should wear neat street dresses. 



NOTE 

For the first part of Act I stage should be entirely bare 
with the exception of two soap boxes, one center and 
one back. Later as the furniture is carried in it can be 
arranged to suit the stage. There should be a large table 
for center of stage to be used for dining scene, a small 
table right, about six ordinary chairs, and a couch. Fur- 
niture should be shabby. Everything in connection with 
the stage should give the impression of a cheap, second- 
rate apartment house. 



TAKE NOTICE 

The acting rights of this play are owned and reserved by 
the author. Performance is strictly forbidden unless his con- 
sent, or that of his agent, has first been obtained, and attention 
is called to the penalties provided by law for any infringements 
of his rights, as follows : 



Sec. 28. That any person who wilfully and for profit shall infringe any 
Copyright secured by this Act, or who shall knowingly and wilfully aid 
or abet such infringement, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and 
upon conviction thereof shall be punished by imprisonment for not ex- 
ceeding one year or by a fine of not less than one hundred dollars, or both, 
at the discretion of the court. 

Sec. 39. 1 hat any person who, with fraudulent intent, shall insert or 
impress any notice of Copyright required by this Act, or words of the 
same purport, in or upon any uncopyrighted article, or with fraudulent in- 
tent shall remove or alter the copyright notice upon any article duly copy- 
righted shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, punishable by a fine of not less 
than one hundred dollars and not more than one thousand dollars. 



When a Feller Needs a 
Friend 



ACT I 

The ctiriain goes up on a bare room, neither rug nor 
furniture being used. One door and window r., door c. 
and door l. One small dry goods box back and one 
center. Tom is standing at center door looking off l. ; 
has on trousers, pajama coat, and bedspread over 
shoulders; is talking off. 

Tom (much excited). Be careful. For Heaven's 
sake, don't spill it. 

(Parrot heard off l. shrieking: — "" Thief, Thief, Thief. 
Stole Polly's cracker. Cracker, Cracker, Cracker.") 

Bob (enters c. d., wearing pajama pants, and coat and 
vest. Is carrying saucer of milk and cracker). Well, I 
made it. (Goes c.) 

Tom (following). Did you run into Mrs. Reese? 

Bob. No, thank God. Every time I meet that woman 
I get shivers up and down my spine. My very knee caps 
tremble. 

Tom. This sure goes against the grain to be stealing 
the dog's milk and the parrot's cracker to keep from 
going hungry. Which do you want, the cracker or the 
milk? 

Bob (reaching milk to Tom). I never did like milk. 

Tom (takes it). All right. I'll tackle it. (Goes to 
drink it. ) Did the dog get a lick at it first ? 

Bob (eating cracker). I don't think so. It was stroll- 
ing leisurely toward it when it bumped into my foot. Oh, 
it was accidental, I assure you. Just the same I think 

7 



8 WHHN A FELLliR NEEDS A FRIEND 

it is picking the kinks out of its back on the roof of the 
house next door. It sure sailed out of the window pretty 
when I hit it. Lord, but I hate that dog. Little Tiddi- 
lums. rd like to Tiddilum it. 

Tom. Shame on you! Poor doggy! 

Bob. Poor polly, I say. She did the most yelling. 
There would have been ructions if Mrs. Reese had heard 
her squawking. Thank Heavens, though, she's deaf. 
{Loud knock at c. d.) Jerusalem! PU bet that's her. 

{Stuffs cracker into his mouth and chokes.) 

Tom {pounds him on the hack). Swallow it for 
heaven's sake. {Puts saucer in pocket and opens door.) 
Good-morning, Mrs. Reese. Won't you come in? 

Mrs. Reese {enters c. d. with dog in her arms, stands 
and looks around a moment. She has ear trumpet zvhich 
she uses during the entire play). Some miscreant stole 
Little Tiddilums' milk, and while not for a moment would 
I think either of you did it, still, I will say as how I saw 
your door close mighty suspicious like when I went out 
to see what Polly was screaming about. 

Tom. Why, Mrs. Reese ! Surely you wouldn't think 
we would stoop to a thing like that. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Tom {shouting in trumpet). I said we wouldn't do a 
thing like that. 

Mrs. R. Pm not talking about a hat. 

Tom {shouting). No. No. I said we wouldn't do a 
thing like that. 

Mrs. R. But Pm not talking about a hat. 

Tom. Oh, what's the use? She can't hear you unless 
you say something about your bill. 

Mrs. R. Bill? Bill? Did I hear you say something 
about your bill ? That's just it. Here I am a poor widdy 
woman with a lazy, good-for-nothing darter, a poll parrot 
and a dog to support, and you two big, strong, husky men 
take up one of my front bedrooms and you ain't able to 
pay your rent. (Tom attempts to speak; she prevents 
him.) Oh, I know you was here before the war, and 
ahvays paid your rent, and Pm always willing to do all 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 9 

I can for the boys as was over there, but when it comes 
to letting you two stay in my rooms for nigh onto four 
months it's most too much. 

Bob. But Mrs. Reese 

Mrs. R. So I was just a-telhng Liz last night that 
something must be did for all the tenants on this floor 
has left but you and Mrs. Slosson on account of her baby 
getting the measles. I suppose you'd 'a' left if you had 
any place to go. 

Tom. Please, Mrs. Reese 

Mrs. R. So I says to Liz last night, I says, some- 
thing's gotta be done for I have bills coming in right 
along. There was the ice man yesterday, five dollars and 
forty-two cents. You gotta have ice. And the grocery- 
man thirty-eight dollars and twenty-seven cents. You 
gotta eat. And the butcher, fifteen dollars and forty-six 
cents, and the gas man 



Tom. Please, Mrs. Reese 



]\Irs. R. {paying no attention to him). Three dollars 
and seventy-five cents, and the Lord only knows what 
else is liable to show up to-day. So I simply must have 
some rent from Mr. Denker and Mr. Mills, L says to 
Liz, and that's all there is to it. I think I've been pretty 
patient if anybody was to ast you. Things wouldn't 'a' 
been left run this way if my poor dear ^\henobarbus was 
a-living. Him as was my first. 

Bob. I sent a story off to the Cosmopolitan that I 
know thev will accept. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Bob (shouting). I said I sent a stor>' to the Cos- 
mopolitan yesterday that I know they will accept. I 
ought to get fortv dollars for it. 

Mrs. R. Hey'? 

Bob. Forty — forty — forty ! 

Mrs. R. No, you don't owe me that much. Jest 
thirty-two dollars apiece, and that means a lot to a poor 
lone widdy woman with a lazy good-for-nothing darter 

to support and a dog and a polly (Crying.) Oh, 

if only poor dear Ahenobarbus hadn't 'a' died. 

(Sits on box c. and cries into apron.) 



10 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Tom. You see, Mrs. Reese, our fortunes are at a 
pretty low ebb just at present but I expect to hear from 
my uncle 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Tom. I said our fortunes are at a pretty low ebb just 
at present but I expect to hear from my uncle this week 
and ihen I will settle up with you for sure. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Tom. Settle up. Settle up. You know; settle up. 

Mrs. R. (rising). Yes, that's what I want you to do. 
Thirty-two dollars apiece. I won't be put off much 
longer either. This is Friday. I'll give you to to-morrow 
night and if you ain't come across, out you git, you and 
your baggage or what's left of it. How do you expect me 
to pay my grocery bill if you don't pay me? You gotta 
eat, ain't you? It's awful, I tell you. A poor lone widdy 
woman with a good-for-nothing darter, a dog and a cat 
to support, and not a cent ahead of me. Oh, if only 
poor dear Ahenobarbus hadn't 'a' died, things would have 
been different. Come, Tiddilums darling, come to your 
mother. (At door turning.) Now mind, to-morrow 
night, or out you git. [Exit c. d. zvith dog. 

Bob. To-morrow night. Did you hear that, Tom ? If 
we don't settle up by to-morrow night, out we go. 

Tom. Well, we haven't so much here that we need 
care a whole lot. 

Bob (sitting box c). But to be thrown out, just be- 
cause some people can't recognize genius when they bump 
into it. Now I know my story " The Lion's Whelp " 
was good, mighty good, and worth one hundred and fifty 
dollars at least, but just the same it came back. 

(Picks manuscript up from box where it has been ly- 
ing, looks at it a moment and then throws it r.) 

Tom (sitting beside Bob on box). Cheer up, old chap. 
Lots of things can happen between now and to-morrow 
night. Maybe we can find something to pawn. (Goes 
through his pockets; then looks around room.) It's a 
cinch there's nothing in this room that can go and weVe 
only one suit between us. What the devil can we do? 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND II 

(Both sit dejectedly a moment.) 

Bob. How long have you been in New York, Tom ? 

Tom. Three years. Three of the longest, roughest, 
up-hill years I ever put in in my sweet young life. But, 
by George, I'm going to succeed if I have to sleep in the 
park. Uncle Will laughed at me and said I never could 
make any money out of my picture painting, as he called 
it, but I'll show him.' Once when I was hard up I wrote 
to him and asked for a little help, but he replied with 
a sarcastic note saying if I wanted to live by painting I 
should be satisfied with the livir^ it gave me. Since that 
time I haven't written to him very often but I sure spread 
it on thick when I do. Tell him I have a beautiful studio, 
all kinds of orders for pictures, lots of friends, lots of 
money 

Bob. Lots of money ! That sounds good. 

Tom. But I believe if it hadn't been for meeting you 
and Jerry I would have given it up long ago. We had 
some good old times together before the war came along 
and broke up our partnership. 

Bob. Things weren't so bad in those days. "I had a 
room of my own with a real chair in it, and didn't have 
to sit on a soap box. 

Tom.- You know it's funny. I have only two relatives 
in the world, Uncle Will and Aunt Alice, both unmar- 
ried, fairly well off and me with good prospects of being 
their heir, and yet here I am broke and swiping the dog's 
milk to keep from going hungry. It's a great life, isn't 
it, Bob ? Why, the money Mrs. Reese spends on that fool 
dog Little Tiddilums would keep me in grub. Did you 
ever see the place she puts it to sleep? A regular bed. 
Has a chair at the table and everything. 

Bob. Believe me it's tough. Angela is all that made 
me stick it out. Only for her I'd be back in little old 
Zanesville, Ohio, sure of three squares a day, but she's 
such a game little kid that I'm going to stick it out too, 
just to let her know I have it in me. The Lord only 
knows, though, when we will be able to get married. 

Tom. Where did you meet her? 

Bob. At the library. Went for some data to use in a 



12 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Story I was writing. One of those I never sold. Why, 
that girl has paid her way through college and made her 
way in life for the past four years. Her mother died 
when she was a child and her father four years ago and 
she has been plugging it alone ever since. It sort of gets 
a fellow's goat to know that she is making her thirty dol- 
lars a week regularly while I can't make thirty dollars a 
month, but I'm a little like you, Tom, I started in to win 
and I'm going to do it. We're a couple of hams, though, 
when we can't even raise the price of one room be- 
tween us. 

Tom. When does Jerry land? 

Bob. Last letter I had from him stated he expected to 
be in yesterday. Hadn't even a nickel to go down to the 
dock to meet him and it was too darned far to walk. 
1 11 sure be glad to see him. He ought to have some 
money. 

Tom. He was lucky. If they did hold him over there 
a year after peace was signed he's been eating regularly 
anyway. 

Bob. If he hasn't any money we can pawn his v/atch. 
I suppose he's got one. 

ToAf. He did have when he left. He ought to be 
along pretty soon. 

Bob. Wouldn't it be awful if he gave it away? 

Tom. If he did, we don't eat, that's all. 

Bob. You mean we don't sleep. You know what the 
old she-bear said : " Out you git." By George ! I have an 
idea. Couldn't you wire your Uncle Will? You told 
Mrs. Reese you expected to hear from him. 

Tom. Not on your life ! That was just a stall. I 
never could make him out very well. You know he was 
made executor of my father's estate. When everything 
was settled up I got one hundred dollars and the house 
furniture and was told that was all. Lucky I had the 
furniture though or I wouldn't have been able to pawn it 
and hold out so long. 

Bob. What was the matter that you lost out ? 

Tom. I don't know. Uncle said Dad had made some 
unlucky investments or something like that and there was 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



13 



nothing left but what I got. What hurt me most, though, 
was the way he has treated me since Dad died. No, I'd 
starve before I appealed to him. 

Bob. Then how about Aunt Alice? She's the one I 
bank on. You know I always call her Aunt Alice too. 
You usually let me read her letters and many's the good 
feed we had on the little old five or ten she has slipped 
you when she writes. 

Tom. She's a queen, but I don't want to write to her 
for m.oney. I've heard that she and Uncle Will had a 
romance in their young days, but something broke it up 
and he moved out to Keokuk. She says she's going to 
give me what little she has when she's through with it, 
which I hope is many a long day yet. 

{Center door opens and Jerry enters. He is dressed 
in captain's cap, leather puttees and a long overcoat.) 

Jerry. How's everything? 

Tom 1 O'^^^^P^^^d ^^P)' Jerry! 

Tom. Jerry, old chap, I'm sure glad to see you. (They 
all shake hands. ) Sit down. Er, I mean have a box. 

Jerry (looking around). What's the matter? Mov- 
ing? 

Bob. Yes, piece by piece for the last six months. 

Jerry (sitting on box c). What do you mean? 

Bob. Pawned it, of course. Put your brains to work. 
Take off your coat. 

(Goes toward Jerry who jumps up and holds coat 
tight around him.) 

Jerry. Not on your life ! That's all I've got on. 

Tom. What do you mean? All you got on. 

Jerry (opens coat and shows that he has sheet wrapped 
around him from shoidders down). Have a look. 

Tom. Jumping Geewhillikens ! What have you on? 
Joined some new religion over there? Belong to the 
Great White Mahatmas or something like that ? 

Jerry. No, I still have my brains, but believe me, I 



14 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

sure ran into some tough luck since I landed. (Tom 
pulls other box up front r. and he and Bob sit on it, Jerry 
on box c.) Got in yesterday afternoon and by the time 
I got my baggage and things straightened around at the 
boat it was 10:30, so thought I wouldn't come out here so 
late but would take a room at the hotel for the night. I 
got a pretty nice one right near the dock. 

Bob. Some location. 

Jerry. As I was pretty tired I went right to bed. 
There was just one chair in the room near the window 
which opened on a very narrow court. I took off my 
clothes and laid them on the chair and opened the window- 
to get some air, as it was pretty warm last night. When 
I got up this morning all I could find was my hat, my 
puttees and my shoes, which I had laid on the table by 
the head of the bed. The rest had absolutely disappeared. 
I rang for the bell boy and he looked around and then 
the manager came and he looked around but they made 
nothing of it and after telling me how sorry they were 
they went off and left me. 

Bob. How much money did you have? 

Jerry. About seventy-five dollars. 

Bob. Oh, my God ! 

Tom. How did you get away? 

Jerry. My seventy-five was in my coat pocket, but I 
had $1.25 in change in my pants pocket, and before I went 
to bed I took my handkerchief, this change and my pen- 
knife and put it under my pillow, a habit I got into when I 
used to carry the key to the laboratory when I went to 
medical college. When I found everything else had 
gone I called up the bell boy again, gave him a dollar and 
he went out and dug up this old coat at a second-hand 
store. I wrapped myself up in a sheet, which I thought 
was coming to me, put on my shoes and hat and here I 
am. I don't know what would have happened if I had 
fell down or some one had loosened my coat on the road 
up. Now that I have satisfied your curiosity loan me one 
of your suits and give me something to eat. I'm about 
starved. 

Bob. Loan you a suit ? Good Lord ! We've only got 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND I5 

one between us. (Jerry looks from one to the other.) 
Yes, we take it turn about. To-morrow I get the pants 
and Bob takes the coat and vest. 

Tom. And for eats, Bob just went out in the hall and 
swiped the dog s milk and the parrot's cracker. That's 
all we've had to-day and my tummy knows it. We were 
depending on you pawning your watch or helping us out 
in some way until Bob hears from a story he has sent off. 

Jerry {laughs). This is rich. It sure beats the 
Dutch. 

{Puts right hand to head to smooth down hair.) 

Bob {seeing ring on Jerry's hand). Here, give me 
that! {Grabs Jerry's hand and pidls at ring.) We 
need it. 

Jerry {struggling). What the 

Tom {going on). Oh, come on. Be a sport. It's the 
only thing of value around the place. We ought to get 
three or four dollars for it. 

Jerry {hands Bob the ring). Three or four dollars? 
Well, I should hope you would. I paid eighteen dollars 
for it. 

Bob {hands ring to Tom). Here, Tom, you have the 
pants. {Takes off coat and vest.) Here's the coat and 
vest. Now beat it to old Ikestien's and raise the kale. 
(Tom puts on coat and vest and starts tozvard c. d.) And 
be sure and bring something back to fill up on. 

\Exit Tom, c. 

Jerry {yelling out of window). Bring some beans. 
They swell up. 

Bob {at zvindoijo). Yes, or dried apples. They swell 
too. 

Jerry. Where does he have to go ? 

Bob {points down). Right below. Next door. 

Jerry {looking down). By Jove! Bob, there's a 
clothing store just below us. Look, they have some suits 
hanging out in front. 

Bob. I know it, but what good will that do us ? 

Jerry. Let's borrow a suit of clothes. 

Bob. Are you crazy with the heat? That's a second 



l6 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

hand joint and you'll get nothing from there without the 
coin. I know. 

Jerry. Suppose we borrow it when they don't know 
and pay them for it later. 

Bob. But how ? How can we get it ? 

Jerry (looking around). Got a rope around the place? 

Bob. What are you going to do ? 

Jerry. Get the rope and I'll show you. 

Bob. How about my trunk rope ? I hocked the trunk, 
so I haven't any use for it. 

Jerry. Just the thing. (Bob takes rope from nail 
near door R.) Now for a hook. Ah! Here we are. 
{Pulls loose nail from box and ties it into end of rope.) 
Now watch your Uncle Jerry. 

{They go to window, Jerry drops rope and pidls up 
suit which he hands to Bob who immediately puts on 
the pants while Jerry fishes for another suit.) 

Bob. Say, this is all right. Just my color and fits me 
fine. (Puts on coat and vest.) 

Jerry (pidling). I believe it's caught. Here, come 
quick! Help me, it's caught. Pull, for I see some one 
coming. (They pull up another suit.) Ah, ha! Now 
we'll see what I've got. (Puts suit on and finds suit much 
too large for him.) Could you beat that? You get one 
that fits, while look what I got. Here, I'll trade you. 

Bob. Not on your life. Mine suits me to a tee. Yours 
looks like a suit for an elephant. 

Jerry. Dog gone it ! I call that a raw deal. Here I 
go and cook up the scheme, you get the good suit, while 
I get 

Bob. Left. But you ought to be satisfied. You 
hadn't any before. 

Tom (running in c. d.). Here you are, four dollars 
and fifty cents. I didn't stop to get anything to eat. He 
only wanted to give me two dollars at first. (Notices 
their clothes.) Where did you get them? 

Jerry (going to window). Right there. That's our 
clothier. Take a look. (Tom lea7ts out but not very far. 
Jerry shoves him out a little further. ) See, down there ? 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND I7 

(Tom grabs to keep from falling and money is heard 
clinking on pavement below. ) 

Tom. Oh, my God! There goes our four dollars and 
fifty cents. Now look what you've done. 

Bob (starting for door). Hurry up. Maybe we can 
get it before some one else does. 

(All start for door, Jerry falling, due to his large 
pants. Mrs. Reese and Liz appear in door c.) 

Liz (looking at Jerry). Oh, you little Charlie Chaplin. 
Where did you git them there pants ? Ain't he cute, Ma ? 

(Jerry tries to hide behind Bob and motions for Tom 
to go for the nwney.') 

Mrs. R. Be still, Lizobel. Ain't you got no manners ? 
(The boys try to get out the door, Mrs. Reese and Liz 
blocking it.) Ain't I taught you to cut out that there 
slang and not to speak before your elders? Ain't you 
ever going to learn anything? You sassy brat! (To 
Tom.) Here's a couple of letters for you and I hope as 
how one of them has a letter from that uncle of yours, 
because if you don't pay up to-morrow, out you git. 

Liz. Ah, Ma, have a heart. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Liz. I said, have a heart. Don't be a tight wad. 
Loosen up. Loosen up. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Liz (shoving her out c. d.). Aw forgit it. Go on back 
and talk to Polly. I want to sweep up the room. (Mrs. 
Reese exits c. protesting.) Gee whiz! H she gits any 
deafer I'll have to hire me a fog-horn. Here I'm a-spoil- 
ing my s^eet young voice I've been a-saving for grand 
opery yeMing at her. (Sings exaggeratedly.) La, la, la, 
la. See, it's all cracked. 

Bob. You'll have to excuse us a moment, Liz, but we 
have an important engagement down-stairs for a minute. 
We'll be right back. [All exit c. D. 

Liz (looks after them a moment). Oh, don't mention 
it Harold, deah. Don't mind me. (Voices heard out- 



l8 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

side. " / know part of it rolled this way." " No, it went 
over there." "Good Lord, if it did, it went into the 
sewer." Liz goes to window and looks out.) Good 
Heavens ! What's eating them ? They're running 
around as if they was hunting snipes. {Looks around 
room.) Don't look as if it would be much of a job to 
clean this place. Ain't much of anything left any more. 
Poor ginks ! Why will a man stick to paintin' pictures 
and writin' stories when he could earn a good livin' run- 
nin' a laundry wagon ? 

(Starts to sweep and begins singing ragtime song. 
Finally stops sweeping and begins dancing with the 
broom as partner. Boys all enter dejectedly c. d., 
and sit on boxes.) 

Jerry. I'm sure sorry, old man. 

Tom. Oh, don't mention it. It was your ring, you 
know. But I did want something to eat out of it. 

Bob. Why didn't you buy something then when you 
had the money ? I haven't had a square meal for a w^eek. 

Jerry. The whole four dollars and fifty cents must 
have rolled right into that sewer. Talk about luck. 

Liz {zvho has been listening). Say, is you guys 
hungry ? 

Bob. Oh, no. Not so you could mention it. 

Jerry. I ate last night at 5 : 30 and it's now {reaches 
for zvatch) — good-night ! That's gone too. 

Tom. I'd hate to tell you when I ate last. 

Liz {throws broom in corner). Well, you just watch 
your Aunt Lizzie. Thank heavens Ma's deaf and if I do 
make any noise in the kitchen she can't hear me. 

[Exit, c. D. 

Tom {at door). Bully for Liz. 

Jerry. Some name. Liz ! 

Bob. Some girl, Liz. 

{Rubs stomach and throws kiss after her.) 

Tom. Well, we might as well see who the letters are 
from while she is gone. {Opens first one and reads it.) 
Bob {at door). I hope she hurries. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 19 

Jerry. So do I. 

Tom. Hurray ! Some luck at last. 

( Grabs Jerry and Bob and waltzes them around. 
Jerry trips on account of big trousers.) 

Jerry. Cut it out. Cut it out. Do you want me to 
break my neck in these confounded pants? 

Bob. What's all the excitement ? 

Tom {hands him letter). Read that. 

Bob {reading). " My dear nephew: It has been some 
time since I heard from you, but " 

Tom. Skip that. {Pointing.) Read here. 

Bob {reading). "And when your father's papers were 
opened I found a letter addressed to myself, instructing 
that it be opened a week before your twenty-fifih birth- 
day." 

Tom. That was a week ago to-day. I am twenty-five 
to-day. 

Bob {reading), "When the 'letter was opened it in- 
structed that I go to a certain bank and remove from a 
vault a package which I was to deliver to you. This 
package I have expressed to you and no doubt you have 
received it ere this." 

Tom. That's the lost money, I know it. 

Jerry. Maybe it's bonds or something like that. 

Bob {reading). " Thinking things over after I had ex- 
pressed the package to you, I came to the conclusion that 
I hadn't treated you just the best for the last three years 
and I made up mv mind I would come and see you in 
New York " 

Tom {grabbing letter). What's that? I didn't get 
that far^ {Reads.) "Come and see you in New York 
and we'll straighten things out to your advantage. You 
can expect me on your birthday. With love from your 
Uncle Will." Holy Ginger ! This is awful. I wouldn't 
have him come into this bare room for a million dollars, 
after the line of bunk I've been giving him. 

Bob. Wait until the package comes. Perhaps there is 
something in that that will help out. 

Tom. But I can't wait. He says he will be here on 



20 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

my birthday. This is my birthday. Good Lord! He 
may be here any moment. {Walks around much excited.) 

Bob. Read the other one. Maybe it's from Aunt 
AHce. There might even be a check in it. 

Jerry. Check. That sounds good. 

Tom {opens letter). By George. It is from her. 
{Reads.) "Am enclosing a check for twenty-five dollars 
as a liitle reminder that I haven't forgotten you." 

Jerry. Bully for Aunt Alice ! 

Tom {reading). "And now, my dear boy, I am going 
to surprise you by coming to see you. I have been 
promising myself this pleasure ever since you have 
been in New York but have never had the opportunity 
before now. My ward, Elaine, is going to New York 
to meet her husband who is returning from France and 
I shall accompany her. You can expect us on your 
birthday." {Putting hand to forehead.) My God! 
(Reading.) " I am so anxious to meet your dear wife. 
I know I shall love her. Sincerely, Aunt Alice." Oh, 
this is awful. {Sinks on box.) 

Bob. Your wife? What in blazes is she talking 
about ? 

Jerry. Yes, produce her. I've never made the lady's 
acquaintance either. 

Tom. That's what a fellow gets for lying. I wanted 
to straighten up my bills before I went to France, and 
the Lord knows I had enough of them, so I wrote Aunt 
Alice that I was getting married in hopes that she would 
send me a check, which she did, a good substantial one, 
too. I was going to tell her about things when I got 
back but I forgot all about it. 

Bob. If she finds this out she is liable to cut you out 
of her will. 

Tom {dejectedly). It will be good for me if she does. 

Jerry. But what's the use of her finding out? 

Tom. How can she help it? {Gets up and looks 
around.) Imagine me entertaining L^ncle Will and 
Aunt Alice in this room, after me writing I was getting 
along good, had a nice comfortable home. {Sits on 
box with head in hands.) Oh, Lord, it's awful. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 21 

Jerry. You surely have got yourself in a nice scrape. 

Mrs. R. {enters c. d.). Here's a package the express- 
man just left for you so I brought it right wg. I 
thought as how it might be something from your uncle. 
You know you owe me thirty-two dollars and you 
wouldn't forget a poor lone widdy woman as has no one 
to help her but a good-for-nothing darter and 

(Tom shoves her out c. d., and closes the door.) 

Tom {with package). Dear old Dad! I know this 
is something good. Oh, if it can only help me out of 
this scrape I'm in I'll — I'll — well, I'll never tell another lie 
as long as I live. {Opens package, Bob and Jerry 
crowding around.) Why, there's nothing here but an 
old rug. {Feels around in box and throws rug on the 
floor.) Yes, here's a letter. I know there's something 
in this. {Opens letter and reads.) "My dear son." 
Dear old Dad. ' 

Jerry. Hurry up and read it. 

Tom. Can't you wait a minute? {Reads.) "My 
dear son." 

Jerry. You did read that. 

Bob. Shut up, Jerry, for Heaven's sake. Go on, 
Tom. 

Tom {reading). "As you have often heard, when I 
was young your Uncle Will and I did quite a lot of 
traveling in China. On one of our trips, while down 
near the Thibetan border, we heard of a wonderful rug, 
known as the Rug of Truth, the peculiar qualities of 
which were that any one standing on it must tell the 
truth, whether he would or not, stating exactly what 
was in his mind." 

Bob.. Sounds like the Arabian Nights. 

To^i {reading). " I determined to see the rug, which 
I did, and with the aid of several Chinese and a rascally 
old Thibetan monk, I obtained possession of it. That 
is the treasure I am having delivered to you on this 
your twenty-fifth birthday. Guard it and keep it, as it is 
priceless. It will be the means of bringing you wonder- 



22 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

ful luck. May God bless you, my son, is the prayer of 
your old Dad." 

(Tom turns with letter in his hand and goes to 
window. ) 

Jerry. Let's see this wonderful rug. 

{Spreads it on the floor in front of box c.) 

Bob. Looks like something that the cat brought in. 

Jerry. It sure isn't much on looks. I wonder how it 
feels to step on it. (Steps on the rug.) The darned old 
fake. Any one that would swallow a yarn like that must 
be a bally idiot. Believe me I don't put much stock in 
it. If it was mine I would sell it to the junk man. 
(Jumps off rug with a dazed expression on his face.) 
Holy Mackerel ! What did I say ? 

, Bob (laughing). Nothing much. Only told the truth 
as to what was in your mind. I'm beginning to believe 
in it. (Examines rug closely.) 

Tom (coming down c). Not much that can be made 
out of that, is there? (Points to rug.) 

Jerry. Not unless you use it as a talisman. You 
know your father's letter stated it would bring you good 
luck. I wish some of it would materialize. I'm hungry. 

Tom. The rug of truth may be my lucky talisman, 
which I doubt, but how is that going to prevent Aunt 
Alice and LTncle Will from finding out I'm a liar? 

Ltz (enters c. d. with food which she places on box). 
There's a nice piece of ham and some bread, but I hadn't 
time to get any coffee. Here's a little fruit too. Help 
yourself. (All help themselves and eat.) 

Tom. Liz, you certainly have been our good fairy. 

Liz. Aw forgit it ! I'd do a darn sight more than that 
for you, Mr. Tom. (Steps on rug.) All that puzzles me 
is why you starve paintin' pictures when you could make 
a pfood livin' driving a laundry wagon. (Boys all laugh.) 
What's eatin' you? 

Tom. Nothing, Liz, nothing. You told the l^Uth, 
that's all. Whv do I do it ? % 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 23 

Jerry. Here! I got an idea. {To Liz.) You say 
you would do anything for Mr. Denker? Here's your 
chance. Mr. Denker needs a wife, needs one bad. In 
fact, must have one right away. How would you like 
to help him out for a few days? 

Liz. Who? Me? 

Jerry. Yes, you ! Pose as his wife for a couple of 
days and help him out. 

Liz. Go on, you're full of Peruna. What do you 
think I am ? You have rats in your belfry. 

(Picks up broom and begins sweeping.) 

Tom. Oh, Liz, if you only would! I must have a 
wife for the next two or three days or I stand to lose my 
chance of a fortune and be found out as a confirmed liar 
into the bargain. Now, I'll tell you how it is. My 
uncle from Keokuk, Iowa 

Liz. Where's that? In Africa? 

Tom. No, no. Right here in the United States. My 
uncle from Keokuk is coming here to-day to make me a 
visit. I have been writing him that I have been doing 
fine since I have been in New York, that I have all the 
orders for paintings I can handle, that I have a nice 
studio and so on. 

Liz. Well, what of it? What's that got to do with 
you getting a wife? 

Tom. But that isn't all. I received another letter to- 
day (shows it to her) from my Aunt Alice of Taunton, 
Massachusetts, stating that she was coming to spend a 
few days with me and wants to meet my wife. 

Liz (much mystified). But I can't see where I'm in 
on it. If you think jest cause me mother runs a boardin' 
house I ain't got no sense, you can take it from me, kid, 
you're barking up the wrong tree. (Sweeps.) 

Bob. Be a sport, Liz. Help him out. 

Jerry. Sure thing. His uncle has all kinds of money 
and there will be automobile rides and excursions 
and 

Tom. Go on, Liz, please. You've always been a friend 
of rrjipe. 



24 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Liz. But you can't have company in this place. Why 
you ain't even got a chair to sit down on. 

Tom. Lord, I hadn't thought of that. 

Jerry. Borrow another apartment from the old lady. 
She has some spare ones, no doubt. 

Bob. Sure. Everybody on this floor has gone on 
account of Mrs. Slosson's kid getting the measles. 

Liz. What are you talking about? Borry anything 
from mother for a couple of guys what owes her room 
rent ? I could hear her start the widow's lament. Noth- 
ing doing for me. No, siree. 

Tom. But look here. I received a check from Aunt 
Alice and maybe if I give her that she would agree. You 
see if I get this thing straightened out and my uncle 
thinks I am doing all right and my aunt doesn't catch me 
in a lie about my wife 

Liz. But how did you get into such a mess? W^hat 
did you say you had a wife for if you haven't? 

Tom. That's too long to tell you just now. Oh, Liz, 
my life and fortune are in your hands. Help me out. 

Liz. Well, put that feed away and I'll go and bring 
Ma. I'll do what she says, but I can hear her now 
shootin' off about her Ahenobarbus, her dear, departed 
first. [Exit, c. 

Tom. Suppose she refuses. Suppose she won't help 
me out. 

Jerry. Suppose a cow won't eat grass. Do you think 
she will turn you down with the prospects of getting her 
back rent and a little more besides? / know the old lady. 

Bob. If you can get things straightened up for the 
time being you can steer your aunt and uncle away in a 
couple of days and no one will be any the wiser. 

Tom. Suppose Mrs. Reese does agree. Just think of 
the kind of a wife that girl will make. And her name, 
Liz ! Oh, this is an awful mess. 

(Walks back and forth on stage.) 

Jerry. Now don't say anything about Liz. She's some 
girl I'll tell the world. 

Liz (heard outside c. d.). Aw, come on, I tell you. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 2$ 

Nobody ain't a-goin' to eat you. Come on in. (Enters 
c. D., followed by Mrs. R.) It's a business proposition he 
wants to see you about. 

Mrs. R. If you're trying to get me to let 'em stay after 
to-morrow night without paying, I says no ! You gotta 
eat, ain't you ? And you gotta have money to do it, ain't 
you ? I said they git out and out they gits. I think it's 
aw fuL Me a poor lone widdy woman with a good-for- 
nothing darter and a dog and a polly to take care of and 
roomers as won't pay their rent. Oh, things wasn't like 
this when poor dear Ahenobarbus was alive, him as was 
my first. 

(Sits on box, c, and cries into apron.) 

'Liz. Didn't I tell you ? 

Tom (makes face at Jerry and then goes and pats 
Mrs. R. on the shoidder). There, there, Mrs. Reese, 
I'm sure if Ahenobarbus 

Mrs. R. (shouting). Hey? 

Tom. If Ahenobarbus was here no doubt things would 
be different. And now, Mrs. Reese, I would like, to make 
a proposition to you. I received a letter from my uncle 
to-day, also one from my aunt stating they intended mak- 
ing a visit to New York to see me. 

Mrs. R. Well, what's to prevent 'em? 

Tom. But you see, Mrs. Reese, I have nothing in my 
room, no furniture 

Mrs. R. Well, that ain't my fault. If young men 
insists on painting pictures instead of goin' out and 
workin' for their livin' it ain't none of my business. 

Tom (taking check from his pocket). Now, my aunt 
sent me a check for twenty-five dollars 

Mrs. R. (jumping up smiling). Oh, now, Mr. Denker. 
Just as though I didn't know you would pay your rent. 
You mustn't mind anything I say. (Grabs check from 
Tom, turns and puts it in her stocking.) You see with 
all the things I has to go through with and the thoughts 
of my poor dear Ahenobarbus, it's a wonder things isn't 
worse than they are. Oh, Henny dear, if you was only 
w^ith me. 



26 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

{Cries aloud in apron, all trying to comfort her.) 

Liz {very unconcerned, shakes her mother's shoulder). 
Cut it out, Ma. Cut it out. Save some for the next 
fellow as owes you something. 

Mrs. R. (getting up). Oh, you impident, good-for- 
nothing 

Liz. Mr. Denker wants to tell you something if you 
turn off the water works long enough to give him a 
chance. 

Tom. Now, Mrs. Reese, as I was saying, my aunt and 
uncle are coming to visit me. I have written my uncle 
that I have a nice studio in a good location and am doing 
very well. 

Mrs. R. Well, I ain't responsible for any lies you tell. 

Tom. And as for Aunt Alice — well, you remember 
when I squared up with you ? Before I went to France ? 

Mrs. R. Yes, and I did say to myself where did he 
get the money? 

Tom. I was going over there and I thought perhaps I 
would never come back so I wrote and told my aunt I 
was married 

Mrs. R. Married! Married! (Looks all around 
room.) Where's your wife? You ain't a-runnin' her in 
on me, are you? L^nderstand, if there's another one in 
this room I raise the rent three dollars a w^eek. 

Liz. Aw, Ma, don't butt in so much. Give the guy a 
chanct, can't you ? Don't be gabbin' all the time. 

Mrs. R. You jest shut up. I'm a-running this house 
and I want you to understand it. 

Tom (to Jerry). I don't seem to be making very 
much headway. Perhaps you could handle her a little 
better. 

Jerry. It's this way, Mrs. Reese 

Mrs. R. When did you git back ? And for the land's 
sake, where did you git them there clothes? 

Jerry. Mr. Denker isn't really married. He simply 
told his aunt he was so he could get something to pay you 
with before he went to France. 

Bob. Yes, I call it pretty nice of him to try to 
straighten things up like he did. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND ^'] 

Jerry. Now his aunt is coming to see him and he must 
have a wife. 

Mrs. R. Well, what have I got to do with it? (Stops 
and simpers.) Oh, Mr. Denker, you ain't a-proposin' to 
me, are you? 

Tom (startled). Good Lord, I should say not. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Tom. Why, I thought — that is — well, I thought possi- 
bly considering thatthis means so much to me, you might 
be willing to let me have the use of this floor while they 
are here, considering that there is no one on it. 

Mrs. R. What! Loan you the whole floor? Well, I 
should say not. Here you are and here you stays until 
my rent is paid. The idea ! 

Liz. Aw, Ma, loosen up and surprise yourself for 
onct. He can't hurt it. 

Mrs. R. No ! What I says I means. Here he stays 
until his rent is paid. 

Tom. Well, then, will you give me enough furniture 
to make this room at least habitable while my aunt and 
uncle are here, and I thought also that — that 

(Looks at Jerry and motions him to explain.) 

Jerry. He thought that maybe you would — you 
would — you would (Looks at Bob.) 

Bob. Why, he thought that — that is — he thought — he 
thought 

Liz. Well, she's sure got youse guys' goat, all right, all 
right. (To Mrs. R.) It's this way, Ma. Mr. Denker 
must have a wife and seein' as how I'm such a bright and 
beautiful Jane he wants to know if he can borry me 
along with the floor for the next two or three days until 
his swell relations has went. 

Mrs. R. What ! I never heard of such a thing. Why, 
the idea! Oh, I never was so insulted in all my life. 
Oh, if poor dear Ahenobarbus was only here, him as was 
me first. He wouldn't let his beloved Mehetibelly be 
talked to like this. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 

(Sits on box c. and cries.) 

Liz. There goes the water works again. (To Mrs. R.) 



28 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Turn it off, Ma, turn it off. No one's insultin' you. Mr. 
Denker just wants me to act as his wife until his aunt and 
uncle leave. He'll make it all right with you, won't you, 
Mr. Denker? {To Tom.) Say yes. 

Tom. How can I? She took all the money I had. 

Mrs. R. Make it all right ? Make it all right ? Here 
I am a respectable widdy woman with a good-for-noth- 
ing 

Jerry. Oh, good Lord, don't give us that litany again. 
(Shoves his hands in pants pockets. Look of amazement 
comes over face. Pulls roll of hills from pants pocket.) 
Well, what do you think of that? {To Bob.) Don't you 
wish you had changed? The guy that owned this suit 
didn't go through his pockets very good before he sold it, 
did he? Here, Tom, give her something and shut her 
everlasting mouth. 

{Hands Tom a hill from roll.) 

ToM. You see, Mrs. Reese, if this goes through all 
right I stand to wiii quite a lot by it. Now I am per- 
fectly willing to settle up all my back rent and give you a 
nice little remuneration besides, for I am about the only 
heir my aunt or uncle has 

Mrs. R. {smiling and taking bill). Just as though I 
didn't know an honest man when I see one. {Steps on 
rug. ) Jest the same, nothing but the money would make 
me do it. I consider this as something special for the 
occasion and not your rent, understand. If you hadn't 
done something I was goin' to kick you out to-morrow 
night. {Steps off rug and ruhs forehead dazedly.) 
What did I say ? 

Bob. Just told us something that we all knew right 
along. 

Tom. And now it's all fixed, is it? 

Mrs. R. You're sure you have the monev? 

Tom. Well, I— I 

Bob. Sure he has. {To Tom.) Tell her anything. 
Your uncle evidently has a change of heart. He'll come 
across now that he is coming to New York especially to 
see you. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



29 



Tom. Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Reese, Til settle up every- 
thing. 

Mrs. R. {to Liz). What'll Bing say? 

Liz {tossing her head). Humph ! Jest because Bing's 
been me steady for the last two years don't give him no 
right to butt in. I'll attend to Bing all right, all right. 
Leave him to me. {To Tom.) I believe I'm going to 
enjoy this mixin' in high society. {Affectedly.) Yas. 
I'm Mrs. Thomas De-nker. Yas. We just returned from 
Palm Beach. Yas. I think we'll remain in Noo Yawk 
for a while. Yas 

Tom. Oh, stop it, Liz, please, and let's get busy and 
get something in here before they come. They may be 
here any moment. 

Jerry {zvith roll of bills in his hand, starts for door). 
Well, this buys me a new suit. 

Tom {stopping him). Not on your life. We must 
have a little on hand. Hang on to it. By Jove, I believe 
that old rug is bringing me luck. 

(Liz and Mrs. R. talking back, pointing as to where 
to place things, etc.) 

Jerry. But I can't meet any one in these togs. 

Bob. Wear your overcoat. 

Jerry. It's easy enough for you to talk. You got a 
good suit out of the deal, but look what I pulled up. 

Bob. Well, wear your overcoat, I said. 

Jerry. Who the devil wants to wear an overcoat in 
the house? 

Bob. I should worry and get a headache over it. 

Tom {drawing both Jerry and Bob toward him). Now 
we'll have to arrange this thing so that we will all tell the 
same story. I'll tell my visitors that you {points to Bob) 
are sharing my rooms with me and that Jerry has just 
returned from France and will also be here for a few 
days. Thank God he was here or we would never have 
gotten hold of that roll. {Stoops and pats rug.) Old 
rug, you're some friend. 

Jerry. But my clothes ? I can't see anybody wearing 
these clothes. 



30 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Tom. Oh, Til tell them you had the " flu " while in 
France and when you put on your civilian clothes they 
didn't fit. 

Jerry {holding waist of pants out). Had the flu? I 
could put a flue, yes, and a cook-stove in here, and they 
still wouldn't fit. 

Mrs. R. Now, I think as how we can put the table 
there. {Points c.) Although what you're ever gonna 
get to put on it to eat I don't know. 

Tom. I thought you might allow us to use your dining- 
room under the circumstances. 

Mrs. R. Positively no 1 I've went as far as I intend. 
But there is a kitchenette there {points r.) that I'll let 
you have the use of. I'll furnish the furniture and you 
do the rest. But remember, it's only for a few days. 

Bob {to Jerry). You don't want to be seen. You 
can be the cook. 

Jerry. About the first thing I would do would be bang 
you over the head with a skillet. 

Tom. But Mrs. Reese, how can I entertain them here 
in this small place, eat and sleep and 

Mrs. R. Send 'em to a hotel. I've done all I intend. 

Jerry {kissing bank roll). Good-bye, old greenbacks. 

Mrs. R. Come on, Liz, and I'll show you what they 
can have. Oh, I never did think I would stoop to this, 
actin' a lie in this way. If it hadn't been for you, 
Liz 

Liz. Oh, Ma, you make me tired. Come on, Mr. Bob, 
we might as well git busy and bring the stuff in. 

[Bob, Liz and Mrs. R. exeunt c. 

Jerry. Well, the old lady took it better than I ex- 
pected. 

Tom. But suppose I am found out? And good Lord, 
Jerry, must I introduce Liz as my wife? What will my 
aunt think of me? 

Jerry. Just think what she would think of you if she 
finds out you have lied to her. 

Tom. But her language, her dress and 

Liz {at c. d. with Bob, carrying large floor rug). Come 
on, old sport. Hump yourself. Watch the curves. Put 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 3 1 

on the brakes. (To Tom.) Move the mahogany center 
table. (Tom moves hox c. to the hack.) Now then, here 
we are. {They spread rug center of floor.) Oh, man, 
don't it look grand ? Yes, it don't. She picked the oldest 
and skinniest one in the whole house. 

BiNG {at c. D. zvith small table). Your mother said as 
how I was to bring this up to the gent's room. Where'U 
I put it? . [Bob exits, c. d. 

Liz. Well, Bing Dickson ! What are you doing around 
here this time of day? 

BiNG. Aw, I lost me job. The guy what's above me 
got jealous of the way the skirts was a-shinin' up to me 
and he fired me. Then I dropped in to see you and the 
old lady said to bring this up. 

Liz. Huh! If you ain't huntin' a job you're gettin' 
fired from one. Put the table there {points hack c.) and 
then beat it back and get the pictures. (Bing places 
tahle and exits c. d.) Now what else do we need? 

Tom. Some chairs and a table for the center and some 
pictures and — oh, you know. Anything to make the 
place look decent. 

(Bing enters with some pictures.) 

Bing. Where'U I put these? 

Liz. Any place. Stick 'em down and then beat it 
back for the rest of the things. {To Jerry.) Now you 
get busy and put up the pictures. The nails ought to be up 
for the ones he took down and hocked. If I don't hurry 
me relatives'll be here before I get the house fixed up. 
You, Mr. Tom, I mean Tom, I guess I can call me hus- 
band by his first name, you run along to me boudwar, 
you know, the place where I hits the hay, and git all the 
curtains and things and bring them here. Now, hustle. 
(Tom exits c. ; to Jerry.) Well, how are you makin' 
out ? 

Jerry. Pretty good. You're some hustler, Liz. I 
mean, Mrs. Denker. 

Liz. That's better. {Stands off and looks at pictures.) 
Holy Hat! If they didn't go and bring the picture of 



32 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



poor dear Ahenobarbus in, him as was her first. Now, 
there'll be ructions. Oh, but ain't he a beaut? 

{Points near window R., where picture of man should 
be hung.) 

Jerry. Isn't he your father? 

Liz. Not so's you could notice it. I'm the daughter 
of her second husband. She's only me stepmother. 

BiNG {enters c. d. with Bob, carrying table). Watch 
your step, old timer. Don't bump against the door or 
the old lady'll beat you a bump on the bean. 

Bob. Watch your own end and don't boss so much. 

BiNG, I'm a-watchin' all right, 

Liz. Quit your scrapping and bring in the table. 
{They place table c.) That's right. (Tom enters with 
curtains, etc.) Jest in time, sweetheart. 

BiNG {quickly). What's that? 

Liz. Fade away, young man, fade away. You are 
now speaking to Mrs. Thomas Denker, do you get me? 

BiNG (stepping up to Tom). Why, you big stiff. She's 
me girl, I'll 

Liz {stepping between them). Here, you Bing. Don't 
get reckless. Come on out and I'll tell you all about it. 
{Waving hand to Tom.) Ta, ta, Snookums. Come with 
us, Jerry dear, and we'll get the rest of the things, 

[Liz, Bing and Jerry exeunt c. 

Tom. Bob, this is awful. I've half a notion to back 
out of it, {Auto heard outside.) Great Heavens ! That 
must be one of them. {Both rush to window.) That's 
Uncle Will. We just got things fixed in time. Oh, 
Bob, I'm all in a tremble, I know we will give it away, 
I know we will. 

Bob. Buck up, buck up. Remember, everything is at 
stake. Jerry and I are on hand and we'll help you out. 
You bring him up and then I'll go out and line up the 
rest of them, 

{Shoves Tom tozvard c. door as door opens and Mrs. 
Reese enters follozved by Uncle Will.) 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 33 

Mrs. R. Here's a man as says he's your uncle, 
and — ~ 

Uncle {shoving her aside). My boy, my boy! 

Tom. Uncle Will ! {They embrace.) 

Mrs. R. {wiping her eyes with her apron). Ain't 
it grand! Dear Mr. Tom. He always was my favor- 
ite. 

Uncle {looking around room). Well, well, well. So 
this is my boy's studio. Where are all the paintings you 
wrote me about? 

Tom {embarrassed). Why, you see, I — they 

Bob. He sent them out to take a bath. 

Uncle. And who is this? 

Tom. This is my friend, Mr. Mills, just returned from 
France. He is stopping with me for a few days. 

Uncle {shaking hands with Bob). France! Ah, my 
boy, you had a great opportunity, a great opportunity. 
{To Tom.) I never felt prouder of you, my boy, than 
when I heard you had enlisted. Just what I would have 
done had I been twenty years younger. And, now, my 
boy, how are you getting along? Haven't heard from 
you for a long time. Possibly it was my fault but I tried 
to do things for the best. I tried to do things for the 
best always. 

Tom. Oh, I have been doing fairly well. {Motions 
Mrs. Reese to go. She has been listening very intently to 
all the conversation.) I have several orders ahead of me 
at present and am getting along pretty good. 

Uncle {steps on rug). Glad to hear of it, my boy, 
glad to hear of it. And now I want to tell you the truth 
about your father's money. You see it was just like this ; 

{steps off rug) it was a case of — of — of What was 

I saying? 

Tom {excited). You were going to tell me the truth 
about father's money. 

Uncle. The truth? Did I say that? Well, what 
could I have had in mind? Never mind, it will come back 
to me. {Sits at table.) And now, my boy, a little drink 
of something, I suppose you still have some, wouldn't go 
amiss. 



34 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Mrs. R. What's that? What's that? A dnnk? Not 
in my house 

(Tom puts his hand over her mouth and Bob gets be- 
tween her and Uncle.) 

Tom. Surely, Uncle, I'll send right out for it. {To 
Mrs. R.) For heaven's sake don't spoil '.t now. 

Mrs. R. But I'm a member of the church and I don't 
allow any drinking in my house ! 

Uncle. What's that? Isn't this your house, Tom? 
Who is this woman? What does she mean? How can 
she give orders in your house ? 



Tom. This woman is — is 

Bob. His housekeeper. I'll attend to your lunch. 
{To Tom.) Leave her to me. I'll dig up Jerry and get 
the cash and arrange for everything. Don't worry. 

[Exit c. D. with Mrs. R., she protesting. 

Uncle. A very peculiar woman for a housekeeper, I 
must say. You would think she owned the place. 

BiNG {enters c. with suitcase foUozved by Aunt and 
Elaine). Here's a woman as says she's Mr. Denker's 
aunt. Where'll I put the trunk? 

Tom. Any place. (Bing puts suitcase l. and exits c.) 
Aunt Alice ! I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. 

Aunt. My dear Tom ! {Kisses him.) How France 
has improved you. This is my ward, Elaine. I want 
you to be friends. 

Tom. I am very glad to meet you. 

{Shakes hands with Elaine.) 

Elaine. And I you, Mr. Denker, as I have heard 
Aunt Alice speak of you so much. 

Tom. Aunt Alice, I believe you are acquainted with 
Uncle Will. 

Aunt. Will Denker! I thought I couldn't be mis- 
taken. After all these years. ( They shake hands. ) 

Uncle. I was wondering if you would recognize me. 
I knew you the minute you came in. You look just the 
same. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 35 

(Elaine and Tom go back.) 

Aunt. Same old Will. Flattering an old lady of 
fifty-two. As though I could look the same after 
twenty, no, it's thirty years. 

Uncle. No, you look the same, not a day older. 
(Steps on rug.) Except that your hair's gray and there 
are crow's feet under your eyes and you are getting fat. 
(Steps off rug.) Good Lord! What have I been say- 
ing? 

Aunt. Mr. Denker! I don't permit comments on my 
personal appearance even from as old a friend as you. 

Uncle (pleading). Alice, please forgive me. I mean 
nothing by what I said. Don't let us quarrel again. I 
have never forgotten you. To me you have always been 
little Alice King. 

Aunt. I suppose you hardly ever spoke to your wife 
of little Alice King. 

Uncle. My wife? Good Lord, I never had one. 
(Jerry enters with tray containing lunch and two bottles 
of wine.) Ah! a lunch. Nothing like a good lunch to 
rest one after a long journey. 

Tom. Yes, sit down. (They all sit at table.) 

Aunt (looking at Jerry). What a peculiar costume 
for a butler. 

Jerry. A butler. I'm not a butler. I never buttled 
in my life. I am 

Tom. The cook. The butler's off to-day. Odd, 
Aunt Alice, how you should get the cook mixed up with 
the butler. Jerry, pour the wine. 

(Jerry, very indignant, pours the wine and spills some 
of it on Uncle. ) 

Uncle (jumping up from table). Here, here, here. 
Look what you are doing. Tom, what do you keep such 
a careless man as that for? I do believe he has ruined 
my suit. 

Tom. Well, you see, Uncle, he has just got back from 
France and has been sick. Went down something awful. 
Lost about seventy-five pounds. That's the reason his 



36 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

clothes are such an odd tit. Always believe in taking 
care of the boys who have been across. Have a sand- 
wich. (Offers Uncle a sandwich.) 

Jerry (shaking fist at Tom). Oh, you ungrateful pup ! 
And me putting up the money for the feed. Just you 
wait. 

Tom (rising and taking Jerry l.). Don't be sore, old 
man. I couldn't do anything else. I had to make some 
kind of an answer. Now be a good sport and go out and 
find Liz. Aunt Alice will be asking about her next. 
And for God's sake tell her to cut out the slang and put 
on a neat dress and put her hair up half way decent. 
Please, that's a good fellow. 

Jerry (relenting). I'll help you out this time but I 
think it was a shabby trick to play on me. The cook! 
First time I was ever taken for a cook, and me a captain 
in the army. 

Tom. Forget it. There's a good fellow. I'm so 
mixed up I don't know what I am doing. Help me out. 
It will only be for a few days. 

Jerry. Oh, I suppose I'll have to. [Exit, c. 

Uncle. Really, Tom, I think you have the most 
peculiar servants. The first thing I would do would be to 
discharge that housekeeper. I don't like her attitude. 
And that cook was a little too independent for a man in 
his position. 

Aunt. Will, you shouldn't take such notions into your 
head. I thought the cook was a real nice looking fellow. 
He looked to me like some one w'ho was really above his 
position. And now, Tom, I would like to meet your 
wife and then Elaine and I must be off. We have to 
meet the Cordonia this afternoon. Elaine's husband is 
on it. He is just returning from France. 

Elaine. Really, Aunt Alice, you are making too much 
of a fuss over me. I can easily meet the steamer myself. 

Aunt. Allow a young girl like you to go among such 
a crowd unaccompanied? No, indeed. I shall go with 
you, my dear. 

Elaine. But Aunt Alice 

Aunt. Not another word. It is all setded. And 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 37 

now, Tom, where is your wife? I am so anxious to meet 
her. I'll never forget the description you gave of her 
when you wrote and told me you were married. 

Uncle. The rascal! He never told me anything 
about it at all. 

Aunt. She's tall, dark hair, large expressive brown 
eyes, low contralto voice (Tom much perturbed over the 
description), shy and retired, and a great musician. 
There ; I think I have all her accomplishments down pat. 
Am I not right, Tom? 

Tom {wiping forehead and collar with handkerchief) . 
Y-y-y-yes. 

Aunt. Where did you meet her? Oh, yes, ye5, I 
remember, now. She's the daughter of one of your 
patrons ; father is a writer. See, I remember everything 
you told me about her. 

Elaine. Mr. Denker evidently is a lucky man. 

Tom {aside). Yes, he is. 

Jerry {enters c. d. and whispers to Tom). She's com- 
ing and wait until you see her. She has on some regalia. 
Oh, boy! Prepare for the worst. 

Tom. Didn't you tell her what I told you to? 

Jerry. Oh, I told her all right but this is evidently 
Liz's chance to doll up and believe me she's dolled. 

Liz {enters c. d., extravagantly dressed, hair done up 
in extreme fashion, slit skirt, etc. Speaks very affect- 
edly). Thomas, introduce me to your auntie. 

(Tom motions to her to keep quiet.) 

Tom. Aunt Alice, I want to tell you — that is 

Well, you see, Aunt Alice 

Liz {getting angry). Well, spit it out! What's eatin' 
you? Git it out of your system. Nobody's goin' to bite 
you. 

Tom. For heaven's sake ! Watch your language. 

Liz. Me language ? What's the matter with it ? It's 
the same kind I always use. {Looks around and notices 
every one staring at her.) What are you all gaping at? 
Is everybody gone nuts? 

Aunt. Who is this — this person? 



38 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Liz (now very angry). Person! Person! I ain't a 
person. Pm a goil, a decent respectable goil, and Pm 
just as good as you are. And if you want to know who 
I am, me name's Denker, Mrs. Thomas Denker, Liz for 
short. What have you got to say about it? 

(Puts hands on hips and glares defiantly at Aunt.) 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

The scene is the same. As curtain goes up, Aunt is 
sifting with head on table c. sobbing, Elaine patting 
her on shoulder. ' 

Elaine. There, there, Auntie dear, Mr. Denker can 
explain things, I feel sure he can. 

Aunt {raising head). Explain! Explain! How rcr;^ 
he explain that awful creature being his wife? I'll never 
forget her or that horrible name, Liz. '* Liz for short." 
Oh, Tom, Tom, how could you? (Cries.) 

Elaine. But Aunt Alice, if she suits him 

Aunt. How could she ? Tom is a gentleman. Didn't 
you notice how embarrassed he was when she came into 
the room and his efforts to explain things? I thought 
there was something suspicious about it when she wasn't 
there to welcome me. He is ashamed of her, Lknow it. 
Oh, why did he marry her? And I had such plans for 
him. He told me she was so sweet and kind and good. 
The daughter of a writer ! Imagine any one with the 
education and the ability to write things having a daughter 
like that. 

Elaine. I feel sure Mr. Denker can make the proper 
explanation when the time comes. After all, Aunt 
Alice, she is his wife. He evidently was satisfied with 
her or he wouldn't have married her. 

Aunt (drying her eyes). It may be that you are right. 
But think of her language "and dress. She will be a drag 
on him as long as she lives. I had intended asking him to 
spend the summer with me in Taunton but imagine me in- 
troducing her to my friends. " Liz for short." Ugh ! 

Elaine. Where is Mr. Denker? (Sitting l. of table.) 

Aunt. He took that awful creature to her room and 
then he and his uncle went to see about the Cordonia's 
arrival. After all, my dear, we must not forget our 

39 



40 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

principal reason for coming to New York. Even though 
I was terribly disappointed when you married so sud- 
denly, we must make your husband's home-coming as 
happy as we can. It is a duty we owe our boys. But 
your marriage was quite a shock to me, my dear. I had 
an idea that I could arrange a match between \ou and 
Tom, but now (Sobs.) 

Elaine. Please, Aunt Alice. 

Aunt. I never could understand how you, so back- 
ward and shy that we could never even get you to attend 
a dance, could hurry off and get married like you did. It 
was almost as great a disappointment to me as Tom's 
marriage. Is your husband one of the Boston Mills, or 
was he just visiting in Boston when you met him? 

Elaine. I — I think he is from some place in Ohio but 
I — I am not sure. 

Aunt. Elaine, you do try my patience ! Every time I 
question you about your husband you stammer and blush 
and put me off with evasive answers as though you were 
ashamed of him. Are you? 

Elaine. Oh, no, no! But you see, I — I (Goes 

to Aunt and lays head on her knees, sobbing.) Oh, 
Aunt Alice, I'm so miserable. 

Aunt {patting her head). There, there, my dear; for- 
give me. I suppose I'm a cantankerous, cranky old maid. 
I'll see that he is good to you, so never fear. I promised 
your dead mother I would look after you and I intend 
doing it. 

Angela {at c.d.). I beg your pardon. I called to see 
Mr. Mills and the landlady told me to come right up. 

Elaine {rising hurriedly). Mr. Mills! 

Aunt {as Angela comes forward). You needn't be, 
so surprised, Elaine. There are other men in the world 
by the name of Mills besides your husband. My niece 
was married just previous to the war and as her husband 
was called away very suddenly and they only had a few 
days together, she is naturally much interested in his 
name. 

Angela {smiling). Oh, I understand. I called to see 
Mr. Bob Mills. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 4I 

Elaine. Bob Mills ! Why — why — does a man by 
that name live here? 

Angela. Yes, Bob Mills, a magazine writer. 

Aunt. How queer. That's Elaine's husband's name. 

Angela. That is odd. The Mr. Mills I refer to came 
from Zanesville, Ohio. 

Elaine. Zanesville ! 

(Sinks in chair by table in faint.) 

Aunt (going to Elaine). Quick! My smelling salts 
in my hand-bag there on the table. Hurry ! 

(Takes salts which Angela hands to her and they 
revive Elaine.) 

Elaine. Oh, Aunt Alice, take me away from here, 
take me away quick. I must go, really I must. 

(Tries to get up.) 

Aunt. Now, dear, just lie back in this chair and rest 
a while. The trip was too much for you. 

Angela. And you say you are married to Bob Mills 
of Zanesville, Ohio? 

Aunt. Of course she is. What business is it of 
yours, I should like to know. 

Angela. None at all, only when Mr. Mills returns 
please tell him that Angela Scott called to see him and 
had the pleasure (?) of meeting his wife. (Bows.) 
Good afternoon. [Exit, c. d. 

Aunt. Now what on earth is the matter with that girl ? 

Elaine. Oh, take me home, Auntie, please do. 

Aunt. Not until we meet your husband, which re- 
minds me, I can't understand why you came to New York 
to meet the Cordonia if your husband is already here. 

Elaine. But I didn't want to come. It was you in- 
sisted that I should. I told you Mr. Mills w^ould come 
to me in good time, but ever since I told you of my mar- 
riage you have planned on coming to meet him when he 
returned. Why couldn't you leave me in peace? 

Aunt. You are beyond me, Elaine. I can't under- 
stand you lately. For the past year you have been so full 



42 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

of notions and caprices that you have sorely tried my 
patience. 

Elaine {going to Aunt). Forgive me, please. I 
don't know what I am saying. You have been most 
kind to me and I do appreciate it very, very much. 

Tom (enters c. d.). The Cordonia docks at six o'clock. 

Aunt (stiffly). Thank you. Where is — is — Elizabeth? 

Tom. Oh, Aunt Alice, I know you are terribly dis- 
appointed, but I 

Aunt. Don't apologize for your wife. You married 
her, now stick up for her. 

Tom. Oh, yes, yes, of course, but 

(Elaine goes to window.) 

Aunt. Why did you write and tell me what a beauti- 
ful girl she was? Her large expressive brown eyes, her 
low contralto voice, her Oh, Tom, how could you ? 

Tom (going tozvard her and stepping on rug as Bob 
enters c. d.). I'll tell you why I did it, Aunt Alice, I'll 
tell you the exact truth. It was this way: It was abso- 
lutely necessary that I have a wife and 

Bob. Tom ! Look where you are standing. 

Tom (jumping off rug). Damn that rug. 

Aunt. Tom ! No profanity, please. Why should you 
swear at the poor inoffensive rug? It had nothing to do 
with you being in the position you are in. (Steps on rug 
and looks at it.) It's just like any other rug. And now, 
my dear boy, I am going to tell you exactly what is on my 
mind. You are going to get a divorce. 

Tom. Oh, buf Aunt Alice, I can't. 

Aunt. Don't talk back to me. I have my mind all 
set on it. I know you are not happy. You just come 
in here and we will talk it all over. (Starts r.) 

Tom. But Aunt Alice, I can't get a divorce. It is 
absolutely impossible. 

Aunt. Oh, no it isn't. Nothing is impossible to those 
who make up their minds. How could a man be a suc- 
cess as an artist with a wife by the name of Liz ! That's 
enough excuse for any one. Now come right along and 
we will fix it all up. [They exit R., Tom protesting. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 43 

Bob. Well, I see a rocky road ahead for old Tom. I 
wonder what would have happened if he hadn't got off 
that confounded rug. 

{Goes to rug and touches it gingerly with his foot.) 

Elaine {coming front). Are you Mr. Mills? 

Bob. Yes. I believe you are Aunt Alice's niece. 

Elaine. No, not her real niece ; she just calls me that. 
My mother died several years ago and I have been living 
with her ever since. Might I ask your — your Christian 
name? 

Bob {looks at her surprised). Certainly. It's Bob. 

Elaine. Oh! {Stifles sob and turns away.) 

Bob. What is the matter, Miss — I beg your pardon but 
I didn't get your name. 

Elaine. Lynne, Elaine Lynne. Are you from Zanes- 
ville, Ohio? 

Bob. Yes, I am, but I don't think I have met you be- 
fore. Miss Lynne. 

Elaine. Oh, Mr. Mills, I am in an awful predicament 
and there is no one can help me out of it but you. Say 
you will help me, please do. {Goes to him.) 

Bob. I'll be only too glad to do anything in my power 
for you. Come over here and sit down and tell me all 
about it. {They sit couch l.) 

Elaine. I hardly know how to commence, Mr. Mills, 
and I know you will never forgive me when I tell you. 

Bob. Let me be the judge of that, Miss Lynne. 

Elaine. Well, to begin, my mother had been an in- 
valid for years before her death and I took care of her, 
so I never realized the pleasure that could be obtained by 
mixing with ones of my own age. I have always been a 
great reader, never cared for going out, for dances or 
anything of that sort. When the war came on, of course, 
I had to mix in with the other girls of our town in Red 
Cross and war work of all kinds. 

Bob. I understand. 

Elaine. Along with the knitting of our sweaters and 
socks there was a continual chatter concerning this dance 



44 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

and that dance, this boy and that boy, but as I had never 
attended a dance m my hfe 

Bob. Poor kid ! Oh, I beg your pardon. 

JL-LAiNE (smiling). Granted. If you will only pardon 
me as readily. In all this talk of dances and parties and 
boys I was an outsider. Finally the girls began teasing 
me about it. They of course meant nothing by it but one 
thing led on to another until it actually became unbear- 
able. Finally something came into my head that I thought 
was a wonderful scheme. I-— I 

Bob. Don't hesitate. Miss Lynn, I am honored by 
being made your confidant. 

Elaine. I didn't want to give up my work and I 
simply couldn't endure their teasing, so I told them I had 
been secretly married just before the war. 

Bob (laughing) . By Jove ! That was a good way out 
of it. 

Elaine. They immediately wanted to know my hus- 
band's name. I hadn't provided for that and I was at 
my wit's end to answer them. There was a paper on the 
table in front of me, on which I had my yarn and needles 
and just in front of my eyes was a list of promotions of 
soldiers in the Expeditionary Forces. I took the top 
name on the list and announced it as my husband. 

Bob. Pretty good. 

Elaine. But — but — It was yours, Mr. Mills. The 
name was Robert Mills of Zanesville, Ohio. 

Bob (jumping up). For the love of Well, really 

I It certainly is a surprise to have a wife wished 

on me so suddenly. (Elaine turns and bozvs head on 
arm of couch.) Oh, forgive me. Miss Lynne, I don't 
blame you a bit. I really would have done the same in 
your position. 

Elaine. You are simply saying that to reassure me. 
I am so ashamed and, Mr. Mills, what am I to do? 

Bob (sitting beside her). Now let's talk this over. 
What do you want me to do? 

Elaine. When I told the girls this story it naturally 
got to my aunt's ears and I'll never forget how hurt she 
was for having, as she thought, married without telling 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 45 

her anything about it. But she is all kindness and soon 
smoothed things over. She has been wanting to know 
when you would get home and to satisfy her I told her 
you would be over on the Cordonia, thinking I would be 
able to slip off for a few days and have it understood I 
had met you and then let things drift as they had, but to 
my horror she insisted on coming to New York with me 
to meet the boat. I tried to dissuade her but she insisted 
and here we are. And to think that the first person we 
had to run into was you. 

Bob. I think it was rather lucky you did. And now 
what do you want me to do? 

Elaine. If you would only keep up the deception 
while we are here, and then you can have business in 
Zanesville or San Francisco or some place and I can go 
back to Taunton and everything will be all right. 

Bob. But how are you going to get rid of me? This 
thing of having an unattached husband lying around loose 
sometimes proves dangerous, especially if the right man 
should happen along. 

Elaine. There won't be a right man, at least not for 
a while. I am going to remain with Aunt Alice. You 
will help me out, and you won't tell any one you are not 
my husband until I give you leave to divulge my secret. 
You'll promise me, won't you, Mr. Mills? 

Bob. Certainly. Just rest easy on that score, Miss 
Lynne. It will only be for a few days. 

Enter Aunt, r. 

Elaine. Oh, I can never thank you enough 

(Notices Aunt.) Here's my aunt, now remember. (To 
Aunt.) Aunt Alice, I want you to meet my — my hus- 
band, Mr. Mills. 

Aunt (looking him over). So this is Mr. Mills, is it? 
Well, why have you been in New York so long without 
notifying your wife? 

Elaine. Oh, Aunt Alice. 

Bob. Why — er — you see I wanted to surprise her. 

(Elaine breathes sigh of relief.) 



46 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Aunt. Oh, you did, did you? Well, I don't like it. 
I don't like the way you were married and I don't like the 
way you have been staying in New York with my nephew 
when you should have been with your wife. What do 
you do for a living? 

Elaine. Aunt Alice ! 

Aunt. It's all right, my dear. This may be a per- 
sonal question, but now that he has married you, you 
must live, and to live there must be an income somewhere. 

Bob. I am a writer. 

Aunt. A writer? You are not by chance a brother 
of — of Liz, are you ? 

Bob. No, I'm not. 

Aunt. Thank God ! 

Bob. Liz is a mighty fine girl. 

Aunt. That's a matter of opinion. Would you want 
to be married to her? (Bob looks surprised.) I thought 
so. That reminds me, there was a young lady called 
here a short time ago to see you and said to tell you that 
Angela Scott had called and had the pleasure of meeting 
your wife. 

Bob. Great Scott ! 

Aunt. No, Angela Scott. What I would like to know 
is why you, a married man, have attractive young ladies 
calling on you, especially when your wife, as you thought, 
was in Taunton, Mass. 

Bob. Angela here and met my — er — you? {Points to 
Elaine.) And you told her you were my — er — wife? 

Aunt. No, I did. What was there wrong about it ? 

Bob. Now I am in a pickle. I must go to her at once. 
I — I know you will excuse me. (Bows and backs to- 
ward c. D. ) I — I 

Aunt (grabbing his arm; Aunt should be l., Bob c, 
Elaine r. ) . Come here ! Where are you going ? 

Bob. I am going to see Angela. 

Aunt. Indeed! You are going to do nothing of the 
kind. 

Bob. You will pardon me, my dear Aunt Alice, but 
that is exactly what I am going to do. (Jerks arm free.) 
Good morning! 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 47 

Aunt. Well, you can at least kiss your wife before 
you go. You are not very affectionate, seeing her for 
the first time within a year. 

Elaine. Aunt Alice, I 

Aunt. Certainly! Why not? You need pay no at- 
tention to me. I am a firm believer in proper affection 
being shown between married couples. Hurry up. (Bob 
hesitates, looks at Elaine, then hurriedly kisses her on 
the forehead. Aunt looks at him disdainfully.) I may 
be an old maid but if any man who professed to love me 

kissed me like that Here, do it right. (Puts 

their heads together and makes them kiss each other.) 
Now you can go, and be sure to hurry back, as we are 
leaving for Taunton soon. (Bob exits c. d.. Aunt look- 
ing after him.) Humph! I can't say that I am overly 
pleased in your selection of a husband. With Tom and 
his Liz and you and your Bob things have come to a 
pretty pass. Now I am going to hunt up Liz (odious 
name) and see what kind of an arrangement I can make 
with her. I simply must arrange for that divorce. 

(Exits c. D. Elaine goes to window and stands look- 
ing out, partially hid by curtain.) 

Liz (enters l., followed hy Bing). Aw, cut out the 
chinnin', cut out the chinnin'. 

Bing. But I say, Liz, this is a bum way to treat a 
guy. Here I been hangin' around and buyin' you ice- 
cream sodys and takin' you to Coney Island when I had 
the coin and everything and here you go and throw me 
down for this swell what paints pictures for a livin'. I 
calls it dirty, I does. (Liz r., Bing l.) 

Liz. Dirty, me eye. You ain't got no strings on me, 
have you? 

Bing. No, but I always thought 

Liz. Of course you did. That's all you ever did, was 
think. You ain't the only one as thought you could 
have me for just liftin' their finger, but you got left, 
didn't you? Oh, I'm some popular Jane, I am. 

Bing. How long does this arrangement last? 



48 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Liz. Now you're buttin' in, little cutie. That ain't 
none of your gosh darned business. Why should I dis- 
cuss my husband's business with an outsider ? 

BiNG {angry). Outsider? Say, I'll punch that guy's 
nose, that's what I'll do. 

Liz. Oh, no, you won't. I think he's able to take care 
of himself. 

BiNG. What are you doing in his rooms here? 

Liz. What are you doing in them? I got a right in 
me husband's apartments, ain't I ? Not but what I like 
you, Bing, old kid, but, well, you know. I gotta look out 
for myself. 

BiNG {goes to her). Aw, now Liz. {Puts his arm 
around her.) You ain't gonna throw me down like this, 
are you? Why, you and me's been too good friends for 
that. 

Elaine {comes forward). Oh, this is dreadful! 
What do you mean by this disgraceful conduct? 

Liz {surprised). Now what's bitin' yout 

Elaine. This — this Oh, how can you? What 

would Mr. Denker say if he saw you? 

Liz. Nothin', of course. He's seen us many's a time. 

Elaine. What ? 

Liz. Sure thing. He knows Bing and me goes out 
together. {To Bing.) Come on, Bingie, old boy. 
Come on in here, or somebody'll be spillin' the beans. 

[They exeunt, l. 

Elaine. Oh, this is terrible, terrible. (Tom enters 
c.) Oh, Mr. Denker, I just saw your wife and she was — 
she was 

Tom. Yes? 

Elaine. Oh, I can't tell you! {Rushes out c.) 

Tom {mystified). What in blazes is the matter with 
her? 

Liz {enters l.). Bing's been trying to raise some ruc- 
tions but I got him settled. You know sometimes I 
think that fellow's got a brain about the size of a bedbug. 
And, oh, say, I got Ma to turn over the whole floor to 
you while your relations is here, but believe me it took 
some spieling. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 49 

Tom. Thanks, but please, Liz, do watch your lan- 
guage. Don't say spieling, say talking. 

Liz. Aw, what's eatin' you? You didn't use to be so 
particular. 

Tom. I know, but you weren't my wife then. 

Liz. I ain't now. 

Tom. No, but you are supposed to be and that is the 
same thing. Where on earth did you get that awful 
dress? {Walks around her looking at dress.) 

Liz. Well, if you ain't got a nerve ! Why this is the 
best dress I got. I call it class, I do. This stood me 
fourteen dollars and ninety-seven cents at Siegel Cooper's. 
Why there ain't a goil on the Avenue can touch it. 

Tom. Don't say goil, say girl. 

Liz. That's what I did say, goil. 

Tom. No, no. G-i-r-1, girl. 

Liz. If me line of lingo don't suit you, I chucks the 
job. I only got one way of talkin' and that's the way 
I'm spoutin' at you. If that ain't good enough 

(Shrugs shoidders and starts toward c. d.) 

Tom. Liz, for heaven's sake ! You wouldn't leave me 
in the lurch, would you? 

Liz. Well, then quit your knockin'. Do you get me? 

Tom. All right, but there's just one thing, Liz. I — I 
think I'll call you Elizabeth. Liz sounds so — so 

Liz. Not on your side kicks, will you. Me name's 
Liz and Liz sticks. That's one of the finest names in the 
woild. Thank God I ain't no Gladys or Mabel or 
Hortense. 

Tom. At least try and be a little circumspect in your 
intercourse with Aunt Alice. 

Liz. Wait a minute, wait a minute. You're gettin' 
above me head. What do you mean by that circum — 
circumspect thing? 

Tom. Be careful in what you say and how you say it. 
That's what I mean. This means a lot to me and I'm 
depending on you, Liz, as you always were my friend. 
You've stood between your mother and me many a time 



50 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

when I was up against it and I — well — I appreciate it. 
And now you are helping me out in this 

(Turns and walks to window with back to Liz.) 

Liz. Aw, say, Mr. Tom, don't talk like that. Why 
Ld do anything in the woild for you. Honest I would. 

I was only kiddin'. As for toinin' you down Gee ! 

it ain't in me. LU watch me woids and the next time I 
bumps into the old dame (Tom turns) I mean the old 
lady, why Lll be so darned particular she'll think I'm a 
clerk in the five-and-ten-cent store. Jest let me know 
what you want done and LU do it all right. 

Tom (coming front). That's fine! Now it's about 
eleven o'clock and I want to serve a lunch here. Do 
you think if I helped you, you could arrange it? 

Liz. What, eat with them? 

Tom. I suppose you would have to. But that would 
be easy. Just watch me and do as you see me do. If I 
notice you doing anything you shouldn't I'll clear my 
throat like this — (clears throat). 

Liz. Like this? (Imitates him.) 

Tom. That's it. 

Liz. I'll try, but don't blame me if the things goes 
kerflooey. [Exits. 

Uncle (enters c. d. Has several packages which he 
lays on table). Here, I brought some things up for 
lunch. I always like to buy my own food and then I 
know what I'm getting. I don't very much like the looks 
of your housekeeper, and as for your cook — well, the 
least said the better. 

Tom. Jerry is a mighty fine fellow. Uncle. 

Uncle. I'm not talking about Jerry the fellow, but 
about Jerry the cook. You know, my boy, I don't like 
your establishment here. I think we will discharge that 
woman, your housekeeper, and 

Tom. Great Heavens ! Don't think of such a thing. 

Uncle. And why not ? Isn't this your house ? Aren't 
you running it? I'm here to spend some time with you 
and I'm going to foot the bills while I'm here. (Tom 
makes motion of protest.) No, no use talking back, I 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



51 



have my mind made up and I intend doing it. Now, call 
your cook and we'll have him start with the lunch. I'm 
hungry. (Jerry enters from kitchen.) Just in time. 
Here {hands him packages), take these to the kitchen 
and huriy up with the lunch. (Jerry looks at him in 
amazement.) Well, what are you gaping at? Do as I 
tell you. I have a nice steak in there and some mush- 
rooms and 

Jerry. I can't fry a steak with mushrooms. 

(Drops all the packages to the floor.) 

Uncle. You can't? A nice cook you are, can't fry 
a steak with mushrooms. Pick those things up. (Jerry 
gathers up packages.) What do you draw your salary 
for anyway ? Hurry up and come on in here. I'll show 
you how to fry a steak with mushrooms. [Exits kitchen. 

Jerry (to Tom). Oh, you just wait until these people 
leave. What I won't do to you will be a-plenty. 

Uncle (entering from kitchen). Well, don't be all 
day about it. Get a move on. 

(Grabs Jerry by the collar and takes him to kitchen.) 

Mrs. R. (enters c. d.). What next will you want? 
Here I let Liz wheedle me into lettin' you have the use of 
the floor and now the old lady's after me for clean towels 
and clean sheets. Jest as though me house ain't always 
clean. I calls it nosing, I does. Oh, if only poor dear 
Ahenobarbus hadn't 'a' died, I'd never 'a' had to put up 
with this. (Sits by table and cries.) 

Tom. For heaven's sake, Mrs. Reese, don't go blab- 
bing 

Mrs. R. (jimiping up). Crabbing, is it? Just because 
I stands up for me rights. (Backs Tom across stage 
shaking finger under his nose.) I didn't approve of this 
thing at the start and I ain't any more in favor of it now 
than I was then, and another thing I want to tell you, 
young man, you ain't paid all your back rent yet 

Tom. Why, I gave you 



52 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Mrs. R. That don't apply on the rent. That's spe- 
cial, that is. I've kinda got the upper hand here. You 
want to be mighty careful what you say to me, do you 
hear? Crabbing, indeed! 

Tom. I didn't say crabbing 

Mrs. R. Yes, you did. 

Tom. Oh, well, have it your own way. 

Jerry (enters from kitchen with frying pan). I won't 
do it, I tell you I won't. (Shakes pan at door.) 

Uncle (enters from kitchen). Come back here! 
Come on. (Takes Jerry by the shoulder.) Cook? 
You call yourself a cook? You don't know anything 
about it. What did you ever cook? 

Jerry. Well, I once made a pancake for a lark. 

Uncle. Made a pancake for a lark! Well, you're 
going to fry a beefsteak for a man now. Get in with 
you. 

(Shoves Jerry into kitchen and follows him.) 

Mrs. R. (has been watching Jerry and Uncle during 
this scene. As they exit sees picture near door). Oh, 
my poor dear Ahenobarbus. (Goes to picture, lays hand 
against it and cries.) Oh, my poor dear Henry, if only 
you knowed the carryings on in this house and what 
your poor dear Mehetibelly has to go through with, you 
never would 'a' died. 

Aunt (enters c. d.). What is the matter, Tom? 
What is she crying about ? 

Tom. She is crying over her dear departed husband, 
Ahenobarbus. 

Aunt. Poor woman! (Takes Mrs. R. in her arms, 
Mrs. R. crying loudly.) Here, lean on me. (To Tom.) 
When did her husband die ? 

Tom. About fifteen years ago. 

Aunt. Fifteen years ago! (Walks away from Mrs. 
R., zvho nearly falls, as she has been leaning against 
Aunt.) It's time she was looking for a second husband 
instead of crying over her first. 

Tom. Her second? She's buried her third. 

Mrs. R. Oh, Ahenobarbus, things would be different 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 53 

if you was alive. {Takes picture from zvall.) Come 
with me, darling. Mother will take care of you. 

[Exit, c. D. 

Enter Liz and clears table. 

Aunt. Tom, go down to the drug store on the corner 
and buy me a — a — well anything. 

Tom (as she shoves him toward door). What will I 
buy ? 

Aunt. Oh, buy anything; a baby rattle will do. 

Tom {amazed). A baby rattle? What on earth do 
you want with a baby rattle? 

Aunt. Oh, don't be so dense. I want to speak to 
your wife alone. 

Tom. But, Aunt Alice, I 

Aunt. Do as I tell you ! (Tom turns toward Liz and 
puts finger on lips, exits c. D. To Liz.) Haven't you 
any house dresses? 

Liz. House dresses? What's them? 

Aunt. Dresses to wear in the house, of course. I 
should think a simple house dress would be much easier 
to work in than the one you have on. 

Liz. No, me house dresses is all at the cleaners. 
{Affectedly.) This is the simplest dress I have. Tommy, 
dear, is mighty loose with his change and I never wears 
anything in the house but clothes like these. {Sits at 
table and poses, fixing dress so that it lies in certain 
positions, etc.) Why, you know I was stuck on this 
dress the foist time I seen it. I was walkin' along 
Columbus Avenue and as soon as I lamps it I says to 
Bing, I mean Tommy, I says. Tommy, there's some 
dress, me fer it. And I beats it into the store and I says 
to the cloik, how much for the pink glad rags in the 
window, I says, and he says 

Aunt. Really, my dear, I am not interested in your 
dress and how you got it. 

Liz. Well, you started it, not me. I wasn't saying 
anything about the bunch of junk you has on. If you 
was to ast my opinion, though, I'd say it was p-u-nn-k, 
Punk. 



54 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Aunt. Where were you educated, my dear? 

Liz. What? 

Aunt. Where did you go to school? 

Liz. Never went. Had to go to woik when I was a 
kid. The old man never could hold a job cause he was 
always soused 

Aunt. Soused? 

Liz. Tanked, splflicated, boozed, lit up; you know. 
Plain every-day drunk, so I had to get out and rustle the 
grub. 

Aunt. Why, I thought your father was a writer. 

Liz. a writer? Lord, mam, all he could write was, 
" Give the kid a pint " when he sent me out to rush the 
growler. 

Aunt. Rush the growler? 

Liz (disgusted). Aw, when he sent me out for a 
bucket of suds. Gee! Where did you learn to talk? 
Why, you can't understand United States. 

Aunt. Oh, this is terrible! How could Tom have 
gotten into such a mess? 

Liz (rising). That's jest what I said to him, mam, 
when he ast me (Catches herself.) 

Aunt. Asked you what? 

Liz. To marry him, I reckon. [Exits L., laughing. 

Bob (enters c. d., followed by Angela). I would like 
to speak to — to — Elaine. 

Aunt. Well, no one will prevent you. I presume 
you are privileged to speak to your wife. I'll send her 
to you. I don't see what you mean by bringing that 
young lady here though. [Exit, l. 

Angela. Bob, why did you insist that I come back to 
meet her? H she is your wife, your duty is to her. 
What difference does it make what I think of her or you? 

Bob. But I tell you she isn't (Catches himself.) 

Angela. Isn't what? You have made that remark 
three or four times. I would like to know just what you 
do mean. You asked me to marry you and I promised I 
would. You asked me to wait for you and I have, al- 
most three years, and now this comes up. 

(Turns and walks to back of stage.) 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 55 

Bob (following her). Angela! Just trust me. She 
will explain it all in a few moments. (IValks to door l. ) 
Why in thunder don't she come ? Oh, here she is. (Pulls 
Elaine over to Angela, as she enters l.) Now tell her 
all about it; just like you told it to me. 

Elaine. Tell her about what? 

Bob. Why about — about — (Elaine puts finger on 
lips) you know; what you told me just a short time 
agj. 

Elaine. Oh, I know! I just told my husband (Bob 
stiffens) that I was going to remain with Aunt Alice 
while he 

Angela (contemptuously). Just told your husband! 
(To Bob.) And you asked me to trust you. (Pulls 
ring from her finger and throws it at Bob's feet.) There's 
your ring. And I believed in you ! 

Bob. Angela ! 

Angela. Don't speak to me! (Starts c. d., Bob fol- 
lowing.) Don't even look at me. (Turns suddenly, Bob 
almost falling to prevent running into her.) I have 

nothing for you but contempt. You — you (Jerry 

enters from kitchen.) Why, Jerry! When did you get 
back? 

Jerry. Yesterday. (They shake hands.) You are 
certainly looking great, Angela. 

Angela. And to think that you never even wrote to 
me the whole time you were gone. 

Bob. Angela ! 

Angela (paying no attention to Bob). You shouldn't 
forget your old friends like that, Jerry. 

Jerry (puzzled). Well, I thought that you and Bob 
were — er — er 

Angela. What? Bob? T interested in Bob? *Oh, 
dear no ! We have a thorough understanding with each 
other. Bob? (Laughs.) 

Bob. Angela ! (Jerry and Angela talk together 

quietly.) Angela, I say, I (They pay no attention 

to him.) Oh, dammit! [Rushes out c. d. 

Elaine. Pardon me, Miss Scott, but really you don't 
understand. You see (Angela turns and stares 



56 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

at Elaine from head to foot.) Very well. You will be 
sorry you declined to listen to me. (Bozvs and exits l. ) 

Jerry (walks to c. d. and looks out and then to l.). 
What's going on in here? I believe this whole house is 
going dippy. Tom goes and gets himself mixed up into 
a nice scrape and rings me in on it and now you and 
Bob seem to have some kind of a tiff. {Notices Angela 
looking at his clothes.) Oh, you are admiring my 
clothes, I see. Latest thing from Paris, I assure you. 
{] Talks exaggeratedly across stage.) Brought them with 
me from the other side. 

Angela. Same old Jerry. 

Jerry. Say, do you know how to make a cake ? 

Angela. No, I can't say that I do. 

Jerry. I wish I could find somebody that does. 

Angela. What does a doctor have to know about 
making a cake? 

Jerry, They say we often make a mess of things, and 
I am blamed sure if I bake a cake it will be a mess, but 
are you sure you can't help me out ? 

Angela. No, I'm afraid I can't. You see I never 
was much of a housekeeper. 

Jerry. That's just the trouble with me. Wait a min- 
ute. (Exits into kitchen, returning immediately with 
large spoon, large pan, several packages and book, all of 
which he puts on table c.) Now, it says in this book to 
take a lump of butter the size of a nut. Now what kind 
of a nut? A walnut, a hickory nut, a cocoanut 

Angela. I think I would make it a walnut, Jerry. 

Jerry. All right, in she goes. (Puts butter in pan.) 
Then it says to mix the butter and the flour and the 
nutmeg and all the rest of the dope together and fold in 
the whites of three eggs, shaking the pan gently until it 
settles. (Has been reading this from book.) Now, how 

the h I beg your pardon, I mean how can you fold 

anything in the white of an egg? 

Angela. Not being a cook, Jerry, I'm afraid I can't 
help you. (Starts c.) 

Jerrys Don't be in a hurry. Stick around. (Angela 
returns and sits L. of table.) You see there is an old 



WHEK A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 5/ 

gazaboo in the next room there that insists he must 
have a cake for his dinner and insists that I make it. 
Xow, I have everything here; maybe the two of us can 
get the thing done if we stay with' it. (Gets book.) 
First, it sa3-s a quart of flour. I got that. (Pours flour 
from bag into pan.) Now sah to taste. I suppose three 
tablespoonfuls ought to be enough, don't you ? 
Angela. I should think it would be. 

(He puts in three tablespoonfuls salt.) 

Jerry. All right, what's next? (Reads.) Three eggs, 
separating the yolks from the whites. But suppose they 
don't want to be separated. (Breaks eggs in dish.) 
\\t\\, tliere they are. But how do you separate them? 

Angela. A\'hy ask me ? I told you I was not a cook. 

Jerry. I guess we'll have to send them to the divorce 
court. It's good for separating things. (Scratches 
head.) Well, it has me stumped- !Maybe you do it this 
vray. (Attempts to pour eggs from dish into pan and 
pills them on the floor.) Now what do you think of 
that and those are all the eggs I have, too. ('Looks at 
them a moment.) Well, he insists on having his cake and 
the cake must have its eggs, so we will give him all v.-e 
have. (Gathers eggs from floor with spoon and puts 
them in pan.) Now have we got ever^-thing? (Counts.) 
Butter, flour, salt, eggs and baking powder. Gee! I 
forgot the baking powder. How much does it say? 
(Looks at book.) Add sufficient quantity^ of baking 
powder. Now, how in the devil should I know what a 
sufficient quantit}' of baking powder is. (Studies.) I 
have a quart of flour and I suppose a box of baking 
powder would be plent}', don't you ? 

Angela. Oh, I think that would be loads. 

Jerry (puis in baking powder). Now then (reads 
from book), shake gently until thoroughly settled. 

(Sh-akes the pan violently on the table.) 

Angela. You didn't stir it up. 



58 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Jerry. Oh, yes, I forgot. {Takes spoon and mixes 
the cake.) What's the matter with you and Bob? 

Angela. Don't mention his name to me again. 

Jerry. All right. Suppose you could ever get inter- 
ested in anybody else ? 

Angela. I might. 

Jerry. I know a mighty fine fellow, a doctor 

Angela. A doctor? 

Jerry. Yes, name of Jerry Smith, just returned from 
France, and he always was interested in you 

(Uncle enters from kitchen; Jerry sees him and 
shakes pan violently on table.) 

Uncle. So that's what you are doing? Have you 
got that cake mixed yet? {Looks into pan.) Did you 
put in the milk? 

Jerry. Do you have to put milk in a cake? 

Uncle. Do you have to put milk in a cake ? Why of 
course you do. Cook! A fine cook you are. You 
don't know anything. What kind of a house does Tom 
run? {Pointing to Angela.) Who is this? 

Jerry. A friend of Tom's. 

{Puts pan containing cake mixture on chair r. of table.) 

Uncle. A friend of Tom's, eh? Sitting here talking 
to the cook. Don't you know any better than to call 
your employer by his first name? Mr. Denker, sir, would 
suit you a whole lot better. A friend of Tom's. I see 
there is nothing else to be done around this place but for 
me to take hold and run it. Now you get into the 
kitchen, if you can call it that, and get lunch ready. {To 
Angela.) And as for you — ^ — 

Angela. As for me, I can take care of myself. I 
think you are a meddlesome, nosey old man. Come, Jerry, 
I'll help you out. [They exit kitchen. 

Uncle. A meddlesome, nosey old man. Well, I like 
that. {Starts r.) 

Tom {enters c. d.). Well, here's the baby rattle. 
{Looks around.) Where is she? 

Uncle. Who? 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 59 

Tom. Aunt Alice. 

Uncle. What have you got there? {Takes rattle 
from Tom's hand.) A baby rattle. Playing innocent, 
aren't you? {Digs him in the ribs.) What is it, a boy 
or a girl ? 

Tom. Is what a boy or a girl ? 

Uncle. The baby, of course. 

- Enter Bob, c. d. 

Tom. What baby? 

Uncle. Why your baby, you idiot. 

Tom. I have no baby. 

Uncle {poking him. in the ribs). Tee hee! Trying 
to play a joke on your old uncle, aren't you? 

Tom. No, really. Uncle, I 

Uncle. Come, come, come. I don't blame you v^ant- 
ing to keep it all to yourself. I know it's a boy. Have 
you named it yet? 

Tom. No, Uncle, you see 

Uncle. All right, we'll call it William. William 
Denker, after me. We'll have it christened to-day and to 
show that I appreciate the honor I'll give tlie proud 
father a check of one thousand dollars right after the 
christening. 

Tom. Now, look here. Uncle, I want to tell you 

Bob {behind Tom, ptdls his coat). For heaven's sake, 
keep quiet. Get the check somehow. You need it. 

Tom. Keep still. Do you suppose I'm going to get 
pulled into a thing like this? {Goes toward Uncle, and 
stands on rug.) Now, Uncle, I'm going to tell you ex- 
actly what's in my mind. You see 

Mrs. R. {enters c. d. ; is very much excited). I ain't 
a-goin' to stand for it a minute longer, I ain't. I'm a 
woman and I got feelin's, ain't I? This is my house, 
ain't it? I give her the clean sheets and the towels and 
now she comes and tells me how she wants me to dress. 
White cap and a white apron, she says. Well, I ain't 
a-goin' to do it. Oh, Ahenobarbus, if you'd a-only lived. 
Things wouldn't have come to this pass. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 
{Sits R. of table in pan containing cake mixture.) Oh, 



60 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Henny dear, just look down and take pity on your poor 
Mehetibelly. (All try to comfort her.) 

Jerry {enters from kitchen, looking around). Has 
anybody seen my cake ? Cake, cake, who's got the cake ? 

(Snaps his fingers, as though he were calling it.) 

Uncle. I haven't seen anything of it around here. 
Didn't you take it with you ? 

Jerry. No, I left it here some place. I just discovered 
I didn't put any sugar in it and when I went to look for 
it I couldn't find it. It's in a big pan. 

Tom (noticing Mrs. R. sitting in pan). I believe you 
are sitting on it, Mrs. Reese. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Tom. You are sitting on the cake, cake, sitting on the 
cake. 

Mrs. R. (gets up; sees zvhat she has been sitting on; 
steps on rug, very angry). Now, just look at my nice 
clean dress. I won't stand it any more, I won't. I'm 
going to tell exactly what's in my mind, I am. That 
man (Pointing to Tom.) 

Tom. Now, Mrs. Reese, dear Mrs. Reese 

Bob (trying to pidl her off rug). If we can only get 
her off that confounded rug. 

Mrs. R. (to Bob). Quit your pullin' of me. What's 
the matter with you? 

Bob. Here's a much nicer place to stand right over 
here. (Points.) 

Mrs. R. No, where I am I stays. As I was a-sayin', 
that man 

Tom. Just a moment, Mrs. Reese. (To Jerry.) 
Bring Liz ; she can handle her. Hurry, for God's sake. 

Uncle. What the devil's going on in here? 

Mrs. R. As I said, that man 

Angela (enters from kitchen). Fire, fire! Come 
quick. Fire ! 

Everybody. Where, where? What's on fire, etc. 

(All rush off into kitchen hut Tom, who drops on chair 
at R. of table.) 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 6l 

Elaine {enters l.). What's the matter? 

Tom. Oh, I beUeve the house is on fire, or something 
Hke that. 

Elaine. House is on fire ? Oh, let's get out. Hurry, 
hurry. {Tries to pull Tom off.) 

Tom. Oh, it don't make any difference to me. Things 
couldn't be much worse than they are. What's a little 
fire more or less? 

Elaine {looks around and then sits at table across from 
Tom). Is there something wrong, Mr. Denker? 

Tom. Yes, everything's wrong. First, I — I — told a 
lie and then 

Elaine. Yes? 

Tom. And then I told another one. One lie always 
brings another, you know. 

Elaine. Yes, I know, but perhaps it can be remedied. 
Go to the party injured and explain matters. 

Tom. Go and explain? No, I couldn't do that. You 
see she is — she is — well, I just can't explain. 

Elaine {reaching hand across table to Tom). I think 
I understand. It concerns some one you love very much ; 
some one you wouldn't hurt for the world. 

Tom. Yes, yes, that's it. But how did you know? 

Elaine. Because I am in the same predicament as 
you. 

Tom. You ! 

Elaine. Yes, I. Oh, Mr. Denker, I have done some- 
thing for which I am thoroughly ashamed, something 
that I am afraid I can never make right. I fear I have 
separated two loving hearts. 

Tom. I hardly think you have done that bad. {Pause.) 
Do you know I am greatly interested in you. I wonder 
if we could have been friends had things been different? 

Elaine {turning away from him). I suppose so. 

Tom. I have never met a girl that has made the im- 
pression on me that you have 

Elaine {surprised). How about your wife? 

Tom. My wife? Oh, she don't count. 

(Elaine looks surprised.) 



62 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Uncle (enters from kitchen with burnt steak in pan. 
Is followed by Bob and Mrs. R.). Look at it! Look at 
it ! Burnt to a crisp and I paid forty-seven cents a pound 
for it. That man ought to be out digging ditches instead 
of tiying to cook. Where is he? 

Tom. Where is who, Uncle? 

Uncle. That cook. Jerry, I think you call him. 

Tom. I sent him on a little errand. 

Uncle (goes to window and throws steak out). There ! 
Maybe the dogs will enjoy it. Now, look here, Tom, 
I'm going to take charge around here. Your place is run 
entirely too loose to suit me. What this place needs is 
a head, something to look to when things go wrong, 
which they are always doing, it seems to me. In the first 
place you have the poorest rooms in the house. You 
ought to move across the hall. The rooms on that side 
have plenty of sun; these are too dark and dingy. Then 
I think I'll let Jerry go and get a real cook. We can 
give the housekeeper a month's pay and let her go too. 

Mrs. R. (who has been listening intently). What's 
that? What did you say? 

Uncle. I said we would give you a month's pay and 
let you go. Doesn't it suit you? 

Mrs. R. (backing him around stage shaking finger in 
his face) . Give me a month's pay and let me go, will you ? 
You'd better pay your nephew's room rent before you 
talk about lettin' me go, you had. Now, I'm not going 
to stand for any more of this. (Jerry and Liz enter 
c. D.) This is my house and I want every one here to 
understand it, and what's more, what I says goes. 

(Looks around triumphantly.) 

Liz. My God ! Ma's got her dander up. 

Uncle (amazed). What's this? What's she talking 
about, Tom? You don't owe her rent, do you? 

Tom (trying to laugh). Why, no, of course not. Ha! 

Ha ! A good joke, you see, you Liz, for God's 

sake, keep her quiet. I'll do anything for you if you'll 
only keep her from spilling everything. 

Liz. Watch me. (To Mrs. R.) I was just a-passin' 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 63 

Little Tiddilum's room and he was a-yelpin' something 
fierce. The poor Httle dear must have the cohc. 

Mrs. R. What ! And nobody with him ? Poor httle 
darling! Let me go to him. Poor little dear. 

(Rushes out c. d.) 

Liz. I knowed that would fetch her. 

UucLE. What on earth is she talking about now? 
Tiddilums ! A nice name for a child. 

Tom. Uncle, I tried to tell you 

Mrs. R. (heard outside). Hurry, Bing, hurry. May- 
be Mr. Denker has some. Do hurry ! 

Bing (outside). Aw, what'd he be doin' with pare- 
goric, Pd like to know. 

Mrs. R. (outside). Well, then, maybe he has some 
whiskey. Please hurry, Bing. 

Bing (enters c. d.). Say! Any youse guys got some 
paregoric or whiskey ? 

Uncle. So that's the way you treat my nephew Wil- 
liam, is it? Turn him over to the housekeeper to be 
cared for and be doped with whiskey and paregoric? 
Aren't you ashamed of yourself ! The poor littl'e darling 
sick and no one to look after him. 77/ go to him. I'll 
see that he's taken care of. Where is he? Where is he? 

[EA:it, c. D. 

Bing (much mystified). What ails the old nut? I 
was jest passin' the door when the old lady grabs me and 
said to come in here and see if any of youse guys had 
some paregoric or some whiskey, as dis was closter than 
the drug store, and then the old guy shoots off. What's 
eatin' of him? 

Liz. What did he mean by his nephew William? 

Tom. Oh, he has an idea in his head that I have a 
baby. 

Liz. Holy Hat! Foist they hangs a husband on me 
and nov/. they drapes me with a baby. What's comin' 
next? 

Uncle (enters c. d. with baby basket. Is singing). 
Hush-a-by baby, in the tree top. (Speaks.) The little 
darling! See, I know how to quiet a baby. He quieted 



^4 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

down just as soon as I took the basket from that woman 
Poor Httle WilHam ! I know he looks Hke'me, I'm sure 
of it. {Parts coverings and takes out small dog.) Good 
Lord! It's a dog. (All laugh,) 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

The scene is the same as in preceding act except that table 
is set for six persons in middle of stage. Milk should 
be on' the table in bottle and loaf of bread should be 
lying on cloth uncut. As curtain goes up Tom and 
Liz are arranging table. 

Tom. You don't put the milk on the table in the bottle ; 
put it in a pitcher. And the bread; put it on a plate. 
Don't lay the loaf on like that. 

Liz {pouring milk in pitcher). That's the way Ma 
always does. 

Tom. Possibly, but I don't like it. 

Liz (cutting bread). It tastes just as good. 

Tom. But it don't look as good and you know I want 
to make an impression with this lunch. 

Liz. From the looks of the stuff what Jerry has 
cooked up you'll make an impression all right. You 
ought to see the ham. He has it cut in chunks like this. 
(Shozvs him.) And he's made noodle soup. Some soup, 
I'll tell the world. I think he made it out of his rubber 
overshoes, for I picked one of the noodles up and 
stretched it like this (illustrates) , and it flew right back 
in me eye. And the coffee, it's so strong you'll have to 
tie the door-key to the lump of sugar to make it sink. 
You'll make an impression all right, you can just bet your 
sweet young life. 

Tom. Oh, why did things have to turn out like this 
just when I wanted them to turn out right? (Looking 
over table.) Where's the flowers? 

Liz. What do you want with them? You can't eat 
them. 

Tom. I know you can't, but they look nice. Can't we 
get some? 

Liz. I'll send Bing after them. He's got awful good 

65 



66 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

taste in flowers. He bought me a fine bunch on me 
birthday two years ago. Hollyhocks all mixed up with 
sunflowers. Gee! They was sure great. (Calls- L.) 
Bing! Ho, Bing! 

BiNG (outside l.). What do you want? 

Liz. Come on in here a minute. Mr. Denker wants 
you to dig up some glad rags for the banquet. 

BiNG (at door l.). What's that? 

Tom (handing him coin). I need some flowers for the 
lunch. Would you mind going after some for me? 1 
think you can get them over on Pike street. 

Bing. Oh, all right. That's about all the good I am 
around this joint to-day, is to run after things. First it 
was lug in the furniture. Then it was git the paregoric 
for the dog and now it's run after some posies. 

Liz (going to Bing and laying head on his shovdder). 
Aw, Bing, don't be sore. (Strokes his arm.) When me 
husband buys me me automobile I'll give you a good job 
as chauffeur. Now beat it. (Gives him a sudden shove 
which almost upsets him. He exits c. d. grumbling.) 
You gotta treat him rough. That's the only way you can 
get him to do anything. He's gettin' to be a regular old 
grouch. He needs some of them noodles to put a little 
pep into him. 

Tom (at r.). What have you ready, Jerry? 

Jerry (enters from kitchen with white cloth tied around 
his zvaist for apron. Imitates French chef). Fairst we 
have zee soup. Ah ! Mon Cher ! It is nectair for ze 
Gods. Zen we have zee noodle. Iseetgood? Wee, wee. 
Bet your life. And zee bis^^^^. Such biskeets you 
nevair did eat. I know for I baked 'em myself. Zen we 
have ze boiled ham, ze coffee, pickles, jelly and ze fruit. 
In plain English w^e have rotten soup, bum biscuits, tough 
noodles, strong coffee, Heinz's pickles, store jelly and 
some sour apples. 

Tom. I suppose it will have to do but I did want things 
to go off with a bang. 

Jerry. Oh, they will all right. Especially the biscuits. 
If you ever hang anybody with one of them they'll go 
right off to sleep and never wake up. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 67 

Tom. Now the next thing is, who will serve the meal ? 
(Angela at kitchen door.) 

Jerry. What's the matter with yours truly ? 

Tom. That regalia of yours don't look much like a 
butler's. 

Angela (coming forward), I don't go on duty until 
three o'clock to-day, Mr. Denker; perhaps I can help. 

ToM. Miss Scott! Well, I — I would appreciate it 
very much, but why should you interest yourself in my 
affairs ? 

Jerry. Oh, I told her all about them. She helped me 
make the noodles and bake the biscuits. 

Tom. It surely is kind of you, Miss Scott. Perhaps 
some day I can return the favor. Now, Jerry, for 
heaven's sake stay in the kitchenette. Don't show your- 
self. 

Jerry. Kitchenette? You mean kitchen-nz7. [Exit,R. 

Uncle (enters c. d.). Are you ever going to serve that 
lunch, Tom? 

Tom. Everything's ready. Where are the, rest? 

Uncle. They're coming, if they ever get here. Where 
shall I sit? 

Tom. Right there. Uncle. (Seats him back of table. 
Aunt, Elaine and Bob enter l.) Just in time. Aunt, 
you sit here. (Seats her beside Uncle.) Elaine here. 
(Beside Aunt.) Bob right here. (Beside Uncle. 
Looks at 'Liz and swalloivs.) Elizabeth 

Liz (very emphatic). Liz! (All look up startled.) 

Tom. Right here. (Seats her left front; he right 
front.) Miss Scott, will you kindly serve the' lunch? 

Aunt. Oh, indeed ! It was the maid he was so socia- 
ble with, was it? Tom, will you be kind enough to tell 
me why your maid and Mr. Mills are on such good terms ? 

(Angela exits kitchen; returns serving coffee, etc.) 

Tom. Well, why shouldn't they be if they want to? 
Al^nt. Indeed! If you get such ideas as that in 
New York I think it is high time you left. 
Tom. What do you mean. Aunt? 



68 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Aunt. Nothing at all, only it seems rather peculiar 
to me that a married man should interest himself in an- 
other woman in the manner Mr. Mills has with Miss 
Scott. 

Elaine. Aunt Alice, please say no more. 

Tom. What on earth are you talking about? Old 
Bob isn't married. 

Aunt. Oh, isn't he? Allow me to acquaint you of 
the fact that his wife is right here at this table. 

Elaine (rising). I know you will pardon me 



Aunt. Sit still, Elaine. Because your husband 



Tom. Husband! Is Bob the man you came to New 
York to meet? 

Aunt. He certainly is. 

Tom. Bob married to you ? Well, I'll be Could 

you beat that? (Looks all around, then turns quickly to 
Angela.) Please serve the soup. 

(Angela starts toward kitchen and Bob rises to follow 
her.) 

Uncle (as he slams Bob down on his chair). Sit still 
and talk to your wife. Sometimes it does a man good. 

BiNG (enters c. d. with flowers). Here's the posies. 
(Pitches them on the table.) Where's me seat? 

(Looks for his seat at table.) 

Liz (rising). Say, ain't you got no etikette? Don't 
you know that ain't no way to act in company? Now 
beat it. (Starts to arrange flozvers.) 

BiNG. Oh, that's all I gets, is it ? It's Bing do this and 
Bing do that but when it comes to gettin' anything out of 
it, Bing ain't in it. I ain't got no use for this combina- 
tion nohow, and I'm just going to tell the whole works. 
You see this guy (Points to Tom.) 

Liz (as she takes piece of bread and stuffs it in Bing's 
mouth). Fill your face and then you won't run so much 
at the mouth. Now beat it, while the beatin's good. 

(Bing coughs and sputters as Liz takes him by the ear 
and leads him out l. ; then returning to her seat at 
the table.) 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 69 

Uncle. Elizabeth, I think 

(Angela serves the soup.) 

Liz. Liz ! 

Uncle. Elizabeth ! 

Liz {hammering table). I said Liz! {Standing.) 

Uncle. And I said Elizabeth, and that goes. Sit 
down ! ( Liz sits. ) As I started to say, my dear 
Elizabeth, your choice of friends can hardly be com- 
mended. I think Mr. Bing is decidedly tough. 

Liz. Oh, he's a tough guy all right, but I can handle 
him. 

Aunt. I think we will start home this evening, Tom. 
Conditions here are hardly such that we should prolong 
our stay. Now that Elaine has met her husband I can 
really see no reason for us remaining over. 

(Liz is eating her soup, making considerable noise in 
doing so. Tom clears his throat loudly several times, 
finally has violent fit of coughing. Liz pays no at- 
tention to him but finishes soup and holds bowl up 
pouring last drops into spoon. She then -wipes her 
mouth first on one sleeve then on the other, all rise, 
watching her. She looks up.) 

Liz. What the ( They all sit down. ) 

Tom {to Liz). Didn't you hear me give you the 
signal? {Others talking.) 

Liz. What signal? 

Tom. I cleared my throat two or three times. You 
shouldn't make any noise in eating. Watch me. The 
way you ate that soup one would think you were taking 
a bath. Now watch me for the rest of the meal. 

(Liz does exactly as Tom does for the rest of the meal, 
manner of holding cup, napkin, etc. Angela clears 
soup plates.) 

Uncle. Now, as we were talking before that dog 
episode — — 

Liz. My God ! I thought I'd bust when you pulled 
that dog out of the basket 



70 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

(Tom clears throat. Liz stops very suddenly and re- 
sumes her eating, watching him.) 

Uncle. As I was saying, I think, Tom, it would be 
a good idea for you to rearrange your household. I 
don't think your wife is — er — quite capable of perform- 
ing 

Liz. Capable of performin'? Say! You'd orter see 
me do the rag baby dip. 

(Gets up and starts eccentric dance. Tom coughs. 
She stops, looks at him and resumes her seat.) 

Uncle. As I was saying when your wife interrupted 
me, I don't think she is quite capable of performing the 
arduous duties connected with keeping up an establish- 
ment the size of this one, so I think between us we ought 
to arrange to change things around a little. In fact, I 
think the best way out of it would be for you to take 
another house, one more suited to a professional man. I 
don't like this one at all, so we'll go out this afternoon 
and hunt up something better. 

Tom. Really, Uncle, I am well satisfied here. 

Uncle. Nonsense ! My nephew satisfied with a place 
like this? The very idea. To tell you the truth I can't 
quite reconcile this place with your letters. You always 
said you were so prosperous, but this place looks — well, 
I don't like it, that's all. While we are out I think we 
will look up another housekeeper. I don't like that old 
Ahenobarbus woman. 

Liz {jumping up). Here! Don't you dare call 
my 

(Tom takes violent fit of coughing; Uncle pounds him 
on hack.) 

Uncle. What on earth's the matter with vou? This 
is about the third or fourth time to-day you have about 
coughed your head off. I wonder if it's those confounded 
biscuits. They taste as though they were m.ade out of 
gunpowder and sawdust. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 7I 

Mrs. R. (heard outside). Help! Help! Help! 
(Enters c. d.) Come quick! Oh, hurry, or he will be 
killed. Hurry ! [Exit, C. d., all following her. 

Jerry (enters from kitchen, followed by Angela). 
What the deuce is the matter with the old lady now? 
(They look out c. d.) She can raise more particular 

kinds of h (turns and looks at Angela) fits in a 

short space of time than any woman I know. 

Angela. It seems the dinner is about ended, so I must 
be off. I must change my dress before I go to the 
library. 

Jerry. Fine ! I'll walk over with you. 

Angela (looking at his clothes). Well, I would like 
to have you, but, er 

Jerry. But er what ? 

Angela. I thought possibly you might want to put 
on another suit. 

Jerry. Oh, dammit ! Beg your pardon. No, I guess 
I won't go. If I met a policeman he would think it was 
Charlie Chaplin taking a walk in Fatty Arbuckle's togs. 
I say, Angela, you know that doctor I told you about a 
little bit ago; the one that thought a lot of you. 

Angela (walking on rug). Yes. 

Jerry. He still thinks a lot of you and 

Angela. Jerry, Jerry. You don't care for me and 
you know it. It's just a case of the man and the 

Jerry. Pretty girl. 

Angela. I would hardly go so far as to say that. Say 
the girl being handy. You think you are in love with 
me. You have been over in France so long that the 
sight of an American girl has gone to your head. 

Jerry. No, I am telling the truth. I honestly am. 

Angela. No, you just think you are. Besides you 
have told me time and time again you would never marry 
until you became a famous surgeon with a big practice, 
and I want you to wait until then. (Pause.) I might as 
well tell the truth, too. I love Bob. 

Terry. And you have had a scrap with him, I suppose. 
What do you want me to do ? Punch his head ? 

(Starts toward c. d.) 



72 WHEN A FliLLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Angela {stopping him). No, no! That wouldn't do 
any good anyhow, as he is married. 

Jerry. What! Old Bob married? The sly old dog. 
But look here; what was he making love to you for if he 
already has a wife ? 

Angela. I don't know why he did it but I'll never 

forgive him, never ! 

• 
{Rushes off c. d., running into Bob at door.) 

Bob. Angela, just a moment, please. 

(Angela glares at him disdainfully and exits.) 

Jerry. Look here, young man. Will }ou tell me what 
you mean by making love to a girl like that when you are 
already married? 

Bob. What the devil is that any of your business, I 
should like to know? 

Jerry. I'm going to make it some of my business. I 
think a lot of that girl 

Bob. You think a lot of her, do you? Who gave you 
any right to think a lot of her? You keep away from 
her. Do you hear me ? Keep away ! 

Jerry. Of all the nerve! You, a married man, tell- 
ing me to keep away from her. What's it any of your 
business whether I keep away from her or not? What 
Vv'ould your wife think if she heard you? 

Bob. My wife, my Oh, I'll go crazy in a minute. 

She's got to clear this thing up, that's all there is to it. 
She's got to. [Exits l. 

Jerry. I think the whole darn bunch is bughouse. 
And I left the army for a little peace and quiet. 

[Exits kitcJien. 

Uncle {enters c. d. foUozved by Aunt and Elaine). 
For God's sake! The dog had its tail caught in the 
wringer. What the devil did she have the dog in the 
wash-tub for ? I'm going to get rid of that woman, that's 
all there is to it. I'm going right in now and discharge 
her. {Starts c. D.) No, I believe I'll let Tom do it. 
Still, I might as well let her know I'm running things 
from now on. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



73 



Mrs. R. {enters c. d. with dog in her arms). Poor 
Little Tiddilums ! Did urns tail hurt? (Shozus dog's tail 
wrapped up in big bandage.) Naughty wringer. Hurt 
poor doggy's tail. 

Uncle. Here, here, here. Cut out that slush. Cut 
out that slush. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Uncle (yelling). I said, cut out that slush. 

Mrs. R. No, I don't like mush. 

Uncle. Slush, slush. S-1-u-s-h slush. 

Mrs. R. Well, what about it? I never et it. Is it a 
new breakfast food ? 

Uncle. Oh, wouldn't this get your goat? Who said 

anything about eating it ? I said Oh, confound it. 

Where did Tom ever pick her up, I should like to know. 

Elaine. If you speak right into the tube she can 
hear you. 

Uncle. While she's here I'll discharge her, that's what 
I'll do. (Speaking in tube.) I've decided to make a 
change around here. How much does my nephew owe 
you? 

Mrs. R. Thirty-two dollars, and that means a whole 
lot to a poor lone widdy woman with a dog 

Uncle. That's enough. Here (takes out wallet), I'll 
pay you off and then you can go. 

Mrs. R. (reaching for money and then drawing her 
hand back). Go? Go? What do you mean? 

Uncle. What do I mean? Can't you understand 
plain English? Beat it. Get out. Vamoose. Take 
your suitcase and toddle along. 

Mrs. R. (drops dog). What! What's that you are 
saying? Me beat it. Out of my own house? That's 
the second time you've told me that. (Shakes finger in 
his face and backs him into corner R. ) I would like to 
have you distinctly understand that I won't be put out of 
here. I'm running things here and I'm able to run them. 
Let me tell you it's your nephew that'll go and you'll go 
with him. I don't intend to have you or any one else 
come in liere and tell me what I'll do. (Throws apron 
over head and sits in chair R. of table.) Oh, if only poor 



74 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

dear Ahenobarbus was here, things wouldn't be like this. 
Oh, Ahenobarbus, look down on this mean old man insult- 
ing of your dear Mehetibelly. (Cries.) 

Aunt (who has been enjoying the scene). Conciliate 
her. Don't be so harsh with the poor thing. She's griev- 
ing for her husband. I think you were cruel to her. 

Uncle. Well, maybe I was. (Goes to Mrs. R. and 
puts his hand on her shoidder.) Now, Mrs. Reese 

Mrs. R. (jumping up and throwing his hand from 
shoidder). Don't you dast to touch me, you viper! I 
knowed as soon as I seen you comin' in you was goin' to 
bring trouble and now I'm sure of it. Oh, what us poor 
defenseless women has to endure from you beasts of men. 
(Sits and cries.) Oh, Ahenobarbus, Ahenobarbus, things 
wouldn't 'a' been like this if you was here. 

(Aunt makes motions for Uncle to pacify her. He 
touches her very gingerly on the shoidder.) 

Uncle. There, there, Mrs. Reese, I didn't mean any- 
thing by what I said. 

Mrs. R. Yes, you did. You've insulted me, that's 
what you have. 

Uncle. Perhaps I was a little hasty, but we'll let by- 
gones be bygones. Here's a ten to sort of square things 
with us. (She reaches up and grabs the ten Out does not 
stop crying.) Well, I'll be- 

Aunt. Keep it up. She'll forgive you. 

Uncle. Keep up what? Passing her ten dollar bills? 

Aunt. Silly. 

Uncle. You see, Mrs. Reese, I didn't really mean 
anything. I was just a little bit excited perhaps and then 
I always rather liked you too. 

Mrs. R. (stops crying, takes apron from her face and 
looks at him). Are you a-tryin' to make up to me? 

Uncle. Good Lord, no ! Me make up to youf Well, 
I should hope not. 

Mrs. R. Oh, is that so! Well, let me tell you I'm 
just as good as you are. Maybe I ain't got money but 
I'm a lady, I am, and I want you to understand it. 

L^NCLE. Oh, we understand that all right. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 75 

Mrs. R. Indeed ! Well, I don't like the way you say 
it. (Starts toward him.) 

Uncle (backing from her). Keep off! Keep away 
from me. Don't you hit me. (He backs out door r.) 

Mrs. R. (turning toward Aunt and Elaine). And 
as for you 

(Looks at them disdainfidly. They smile and exit l. 
Mrs. R. looks right and left and then goes to table 
and stuffs pockets, apron, bosom, etc., with biscuits, 
fruit and bread. Then sits and eats very rapidly.) 

Jerry (enters c). Where have the rest of the folks 
gone? 

Mrs. R. (has mouth so full she can't speak). Um? 
Jerry (yelling). I said where are the rest of the folks? 
Mrs. R. (rises, points left and right . Um-m-m-m-m. 

[Exit, c. D. 
Jerry. What in blazes was she trying to tell me ? 

(Leans against table and scratches his head, puzzled. 
Leans against plate of biscuits which he sjioidd up- 
set on to floor. Stoops to gather them up and 
crazvls under table in back when Tom enters c. d. 
and Elaine l.) 

Elaine. Oh, Mr. Denker, I'm so glad I found you 
alone. You see I want to tell you 

Tom. Yes, and I want to tell you something. Sit 
down. (He places two chairs so that when they sit both 
his and Elaine's feet are on the rug.) I suppose you 
will think I'm a cad, but I can't help it. Elaine, do you 
think you could have cared for me if, if 

Elaine. If I had met you before I had Mr. Mills? 

Tom. Yes. 

Elaine. That is hardly a fair question, Mr. Denker. 

Tom. Answer it, please. 

Elaine. I'll answer it with another. Could you have 
cared for me had you met me before you did — Liz? 

Tom. I don't care for Liz. We are just good pals, 
nothing more. 

Elaine (surprised). Why, Mr. Denker. 



76 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



Tom. It's true. I'm going to tell you the truth of 
this thing once and for all. I'm not .married. 

Elaine. Not married ! 

Tom. No, not married. It was like this: When I 
enlisted I owed a lot of money for room rent, clothes 
and one thing or another, as things hadn't been going 
just as well as they might for some time previous to the 
war. I wanted to square things up before I left and as I 
thought the chances were I would never get back, I wrote 
Aunt Alice and told her I was married in hopes that she 
would send me a check for a wedding present, — which 
she did. Then to-day when I heard she was coming to 
see me I had to have a wife — - — 

Elaine. And so you took Liz. Who is she? 

Tom. Mrs. Reese's daughter. 

Elaine. I wondered how you could care for a woman 
with the evident lack of refinement she exhibited. 

Tom. Liz is a good sport all right. A mighty fine 
girl. 

Elaine. No doubt, Mr. Denker, but 

Tom. Tom. {Placing his hand on hers.) Call me 
Tom, please. 

Elaine. All right then — Tom. No doubt Liz has 
sterling qualities, but I am really glad she is not your wife. 
And now to tell you my story. There is something that 
simply compels me to speak the truth. I don't know 
iust what it is. I am no more married than you are — 
Tom. 

Tom. Thank God ! 

Elaine. I never saw Mr. Mills before to-day. 

Tom {points to Elaine). You're not married. 
{Points to himself.) I'm not married. What's to pre- 
vent us from getting married ? Nothing. ( Takes her by 
the hand.) Come on. You can tell me all about it later. 

Elaine. But, Tom, where are we going? 

Tom. To the court house. We're going to get mar- 
ried. 

Elaine. But I must get my hat and 

Tom. It's only two blocks away and you don't need 
a hat. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 



11 



Elaine. But really I don't think we should. 
^ Tom. Of course we should. Come right along. We'll 
give them all the surprise of their life. 

Elaine. But really, Tom {They exit, c. d. 

Jerry {sticking head out from under table cover). 
Mighty quick work. 

Uncle {enters cautiously from kitchen. Jerry again 
hides under table. Uncle crosses to door l. and calls), 
Alice, come here a moment, will you ? 

Aunt {enters l.). Did you succeed in discharging the 
housekeeper ? 

Uncle. Don't mention that awful woman to me. I do 
believe she — she 

Aunt. Has designs on you, William? Is that what 
you are trying to say ? 

Uncle. Something like that. 

Aunt. I shouldn't be at all surprised. She evidently 
knows how to handle herself. I started to console her 
for the loss of her poor dear Ahenobarbus and discovered 
he has been dead for fifteen years and that she has had 
two husbands since he was taken off, luckily for him, I 
think. Just think of it, William, three husbands. {Sits 
on chair with feet on rug.) Some of us poor lonely old 
maids can't even get one. 

_ Uncle (looks at her a moment, clears throat, looks 
right and left and then sits beside her). Look here, 
Alice. Why did you turn me down the way you did? 
That was a pretty hard blow to me. 

Aunt. I suppose I was foolish but Minnie Swinton 
told me that you had kissed her 

Uncle. I kissed Minnie Swinton? Well, I should 
say not. Not me ! Alice, you were the only girl for me 
then as you are now. I have never forgotten you, Alice. 

Aunt. Nor I you, William. 

Uncle {wiggles in chair). It's funny, Alice, but I 
have such a funny feeling. Something that compels me 
to talk right out. {Very loudly.) Alice, will you marry 
me? 

Aunt. I'm not hard of hearing, William. You 
needn't shout it from the housetops. 



78 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Uncle. Well, that's an awful load off my mind. 
What are you going to say ? 

Aunt. Oh, William, I 

Uncle. What's to prevent it? You are — well, you're 
past twenty-one and I am sure that I'm old enough to 
know that I want you and damn bad at that. 

Aunt. William ! I suppose I'll have to say yes if for 
no other reason than to stop you using such language. 

Uncle {takes her hand and starts toward c. d.). All 
right, come on. Let's do it right away before you change 
your mind. 

Aunt. I won't change my mind but I must change 
my dress. 

Uncle. You look beautiful to me just as you are. 
Come on before you take a notion not to. [They exit, c. D. 

Jerry {sticking head from under table). What do 
you call this place, a matrimonial parlor? 

Liz {enters l., followed by Bing. Jerry again hides 
under table). I ain't a-goin' to do it and that's all there 
is to it. 

Bing. Stuck on this picture paintin' chap, I suppose. 
Old Bing ain't good enough for you. He ain't refined, I 
suppose. You must fly in high society. Huh ! What 
are you goin' to get out of it, I'd like to know? 

{Sits L. and lights cigarette.) 

Liz. Well, what's it to you? 

Bing. What's it to me? When I sees a bloke as don't 
even know how to do the shimmie walk in and snatch me 
Jane right out from under me eyes and you asts me 
what's it to me? Well, if that ain't pilin' it on, I'll tell 
the world. 

Liz. Your Jane? You gotta nerve. Your Jane? 
Maybe I've got something to say about that. 

Bing. Well, ain't yuh ? Didn't I bring you a bouquet 
of hollyhocks on your birthday two years ago? 

Liz. Holy Hat ! Because the guy spends fifty cents 
on me for a bunch of jazz posies two years ago he thinks 
he has me cinched. 

Bing. Well, you didn't think for a minute that Bing 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 79 

Dickson would be spending money on flowers for a girl 
unless he intended to marry her, did yuh? 

Liz. Intended? Intended? That's about as far as 
you got. Intended to marry me, did you? Maybe it 
would be a good idea to ast me about it before you intend 
doin' anything like that. 

{Sits on chair c, with feet on rug.) 

BiNG {sitting beside her). Aw, don't be cross at me, 
kid. You know I think the world of you. And here's 
this big guy with lots of money 

Liz. Lots of money? Lord! He's busted flat. 

BiNG. Busted? Then why are you doin' this for 
him ? You'll get it in the neck, you sure will. 

Liz. Humph ! I should manifest concern. 

BiNG. Now tell the truth, Liz, you don't like this guy 
half as well as you do me, do you? 

Liz {rising; standing on rug). I like your crust, Bing 
Dickson. I — I — I — gee ! I got a funny feeling. I guess 
I might as well tell the truth and be done with it. No, I 
don't like him as well as I do you, Bing, but you're so 
darned 

Bing. Well, that's more than I got out of yuh for the 
last two years. {Grabs her arm.) Now, you come with 
me. {Starts c. d.) 

Liz. What are you goin' to do ? 

Bing. Shut up, or I'll bat you one. {Draws arm 
back as though to strike her.) You've been stringin' me 
along for the past two years and now you're goin' to 
marry me, do yuh understand? Marry me? 

Liz. Oh, Bing, you're jest grand! 

Bing. Come on now before that picture guy gets in 
and has yuh to change your mind. \They exit, c. d. 

Jerry {crazvls out from under table. Looks after 
them puzzled. Scratches his head. Then touches rug 
with one foot; holds it there a moment and then hastily 
jerks if away. Stoops and picks rug up, examines it 
carefully). I wonder if there is anything in it? The 
letter said you would tell the truth whether you wanted 



80 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

to or not. It made all those women come across before 
they even had time to say " This is so sudden." It 
makes you tell the truth. All right, let's try it. {Lays 
rug on floor and then stands on it, questioning himself.) 
Jerry Smith, do you love Angela Scott? {Answering.) 

Well, she's a mighty nice girl but {Steps off rug, 

scratches head and looks at it.) I don't know whether 
to believe it or not. {Steps on rug again. Questions 
himself.) Jerry Smith, does the suit you have on tit 
you? {Answers quickly.) Not by a darn sight! {Jumps 
off rug.) She worked that time all right. 

Bob {enters r). Where's — where's my wife? 

Jerry {grabs him and stands him on rug). Bob Mills, 
are you going to allow me to marry Angela ? 

Bob. Not by a darn sight ! 

{Struggling to get away from Jerry.) 

Jerry. It worked that time, too. 

Bob. What the devil are you doing? 

Jerry. Just trying a little experiment. Now you go 
and get your hat and beat it to Miss Scott's room and 
bring her right back here. 

Bob. But I don't understand. 

Jerry. You don't need to. Just do as I tell you. It 
won't take you long. It's only around the corner. 

Bob. But what if she won't come? 

Jerry. Make her. Now git ! {Shoves him off i..) 

Mrs. R. {outside). Liz! Oh, Liz! {Enters c. d.) 
Has Liz been in here? 

JERRY. She was but she's gone to get married. 

Mrs. R. Hey? 

Jerry. You're too late. Liz has gone to get married. 

Mrs. R. To get what? 

Jerry. Married, married, married, m-a-double r-i-e-d, 
married. Just plain old fashioned married, that's all. 

Mrs. R. Is it? Well, I guess it's not. I knew some- 
thing bad would come out of the goings-on here to-day. 
I knew it. I just felt it in my bones. Oh, if only 
Ahenobarbus 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 8l 

Jerry. For God's sake, Mrs. Reese, have a heart. 
I've heard that so often that I know it forward and back- 
wards. Anyway, you shouldn't blame Liz. You got 
married yourself three times. 

Mrs. R. Don't talk to me. Don't speak to me. 
{Shakes finger in his face.) It was you, you that talked 
me into letting Liz get mixed, up in this thing. (Jerry 
attempts to speak. She slaps him in the face.) How 
dare you talk back" to me ? You knew it all the time. I 
suppose you had it planned out, you and your fine friends. 
Well, I'll show you. Out you go, bag and baggage, vA\ 
of you. {Sits by table.) Oh, Ahenobarbus, things 
wouldn't 'a' been like this if you hadn't 'a' died. 

Uncle {enters c. d. zvith Aunt). Now, what's the 
row? 

Jerry. Liz run off and got married and 

Aunt. Married ! It must be in the air. 

Jerry. And didn't ask the old lady and she's peeved. 
Just plain peeved. I'm going to beat it and let you have 
your innings. [Exit, l. 

Uncle {going l.). Here, here, don't leave me. That 
settles it. I'll fire him for sure now. He can't cook and 
can*t even help you out in a scrape. Out he goes, bag 
and baggage. 

Mrs. R. {zvho has been listening). That's jest what I 
says, out you go, bag and baggage. Oh, Ahenobarbus, if 
you only hadn't 'a' died. 

Uncle. Oh, Lord ! I wonder where Tom ever gath- 
ered up this menagerie. Now look here, my good 
woman 

Mrs. R. Hey? 



Uncle. I said look here, my good w^oman 



Mrs. R. Don't you good woman me. I ain't your 
good woman. I won't be talked to like that, I won't. 

Uncle. I meant no oflfense. That was simply a term 
of speech. Now as we are talking together there are a 
few things I would like to tell you. 

Mrs. R. What are they ? 

Uncle. Well, I think things would be all the better 
for a little change around here. 



82 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Mrs. R. So do I. Just thirty-two dollars in change 
from that precious nephew of yours v/ould about even us 
up before he gets out. 

Uncle. Oh, yes, the thirty-two dollars he owes 
you 

Mrs. R. Yes, the thirty-two dollars he owes me, that's 
what I'm talking about. Him and Mr. Mills they both 
owes me thirty-two dollars for room rent and I calls it 
a downright shame, I does. Me a poor lone widdy woman 
with a dog 

Aunt. Stop it ! Stop it ! Will, I can't stand to hear 
her go over that again. Shut here up somehow. 

Uncle. Isn't this thirty-two dollars due you for 
wages? What do you mean by saying my nephew owes 
you room rent? Did he room with you before he was 
married ? 

Mrs. R. Married? Humph! He ain't married. Liz 
ain't his wife. He's only pretendin' to pull the wool over 
your eyes. 

Aunt {startled). Do you mean to tell me that my 
nephew isn't married to that awful creature, Liz? 

Mrs. R. {very dignified). If it's my daughter, Lizobel 
Higgins, you're a-talking about, let me inform you, mam, 
he ain't. 

Aunt. Thank Heavens! 

Uncle. But, Alice, if he isn't married, look how he 
has deceived us and for what reason, I should like to 
know ? 

Aunt. I don't know what is the reason, why he did 
it, or anything else about it and what's more, I don't care. 
If he isn't married to that awful creature I can forgive 
him anything. 

Uncle. But I want to get the ins and outs of this 
thing. 

Mrs. R. You've got the ins right now and as for the 
outs you're gonna get them mighty quick, for out you go, 
the whole bunch of you. I runs a respectable house, I 
does, and none of these here shennanigans as has been 
goin' on here to-day goes with me. 

Uncle. Oh, dry up! (Takes bill from pocket and 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 83 

hands it to her.) Here! This will help you keep your 
mouth shut. 

Mrs. R. Twenty dollars ! Oh, thank you. I always 
said as how you was a gentleman. I says to Liz, I says, 
as soon as I laid my eyes on you, Liz, I says, that man's 
a gentleman 

Uncle {shoving her toward c. d.). Run along and 
peddle your papers. I never saw a woman in my life 
that could talk so much and say so little as you can. 

Mrs. R. And I says to Liz, I says 

(Uncle shoves her out c. d.) 

Uncle. Now what could she have meant by Tom 
pulling the wool over our eyes ? 

Aunt {sitting at table). I don't know. Will, and 
what's more, I really don't care. Tom is too much of a 
gentleman to go far out of the road and as I told that 
awful woman if he only isn't married to that, that Liz 
girl, I can forgive him anything. 

BiNG {enters c. d., followed by Liz, who is urging him 
in). Honest to Gawd, I'm a-skeered of the old lady. 
You see I've eloped with her meal ticket, and she's liable 
to bust me over the bean with the poker. 

Liz. Well, if you ain't the worst limber Louie I ever 
saw. {Notices Aunt and Uncle.) Can it! We've got 
a committee to welcome us home. Howdy, folks ! Meet 
me husband. {Points to Bing.) 

Aunt {looking at Liz steadily for a moment). Your 
husband? So this is your husband, is it? About an hour 
ago you were very proud of the fact that you were Mrs. 
Thos. Denker, Liz for short. 

Liz. I'm Liz for short, all right, and I sure hates to 
throw Mr. — Tom down, but I guess I'll have to come 
across and say I ain't Mrs. Denker. 

Bing {proudly). I should say not ! {Looks at watch.) 
She's been Mrs. Archibald Alexander Dickson for jest 
eleven and one-half minutes. 

Liz. Archibald Alexander! Is them your names? 

Bing. That's what me mother christened me. 



84 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Liz. If I'd 'a' knowed it I never would have married 
you. Don't you ever dast tell anybody, now mind. 

Uncle. Now, look here, young lady, what do you 
mean by masquerading as my nephew's wife, that's what 
I would like to know. {Both look at him puzzled; Bing 
scratches his head.) Answer me, why don't you? 

Liz {makes motions between Bing and Uncle). A 
nice husband you are to stand there and let old Foxy 
Grandpa call your darling wife names. 

Bing. But, honey, I don't get that masker — masker — 
aw, that stuff what he called you. 

Liz. Of course you don't. That's because you ain't 
got no education. Any old guy can call your wife names 
and you don't even know it. 

Uncle. Now look here, you two 

Liz. Let me talk. You've had your turn. I ain't 
maskeradin' as nothin'. (Tom and Elaine appear c. d.) 
Now that I'm married to Bing I couldn't keep it up much 
longer anyway so I might as well tell you. Mr. Denker 
asked me to let on I was his wife to help him out of a 
hole ^vhen he wrote to the old dame over there 

{Points toward Aunt.) 

Tom. Liz ! 

Liz {turns, sees Tom). Good Night Nurse! Come on, 
Bing, old boy. Us for the back woods. [They exit, l. 

Tom {coming forzvard). I noticed Liz was making 
some explanations as we came in. 

Uncle (aw<7r//y). Yes, and so can you. What do you 
mean by having that girl masquerade around as your 
wife? What sort of a freak farm are you running 
around here? Where have you been so long with Mrs. 
Mills and 

Tom. One question at a time, please, Uncle dear. As 
Liz has let the cat out of the bag I might as well state 
right here that the only really, truly Mrs. Thos. Denker 
stands before you. {Points to Elaine.) 

Aunt. We have had enough of this foolishness, Tom. 
{To Elaine.) Elaine, what would your husband think 
to hear Tom speak of you in such a fashion? 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 85 

Elaine. Please don't be cross, Auntie, but I have 
done just what you said you wanted me to do. 

(Goes to Aunt.) 

Aunt. What are you talking about ? 

Elaine. I just married Tom. While I only have 
known him for a few hours 

Aunt. Elaine!- Are you crazy? How could you 
marry Tom when you are already married to Mr. Mills? 

Elaine. But I never was married to Mr. Mills, I 

Aunt {faintly, as she gropes for chair at table). Will, 
I — help me to sit down. (Uncle goes to her assistance.) 
Really I think the trip has been too much for both of us. 
I can't quite grasp things. (To Elaine.) Do you mean 
to tell me that you are not married to Mr. Mills? 

Elaine. No, Auntie, I am not. 

Aunt. And that you are married to Tom? 

Elaine. Yes, Auntie. 

Aunt. Well, upon my word ! I hardly know whether 
to kiss you or turn you over my knee and spank you. 
Come with me and tell me all about it. (They start l., 
Uncle following.) No, Will, you stay here and attend 
to Tom. I'll handle Elaine. I think her case will be all 
the better for a woman handling it anyhow. 

[They exit, l. 

Uncle. And now, young man, what have you to say 
for yourself? What do you mean by taking us in the 
way you have ? 

Tom. Come here and sit down. (Places chairs so that 
zvhen they sit their feet will be on rug.) Perhaps it was 
a case of taking you in, Uncle, as you say, but it was just 
a case of circumstances and I really saw no other way 
out of it. 

Uncle. Why did you pass that girl off as your wife 
and why did Elaine 

Tom. One question at a time, Uncle, as I told you 
before. Do you remember the time I was up against 
it and wrote you for help ? 

Uncle. Yes, I remember it quite well. 

Tom. Do you remember your reply to that letter? 



86 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Uncle. Well — er — I can't just say that I do. 

Tom. I remember it quite distinctly. You told me if I 
must paint for a living I should be satisfied with the 
living it gave me, didn't you? 

Uncle. Well — maybe I did. 

Tom. There's no maybe about it, Uncle, you did. I 
was satisfied with the living it gave me until just before 
the war, as I was doing very well — nothing to brag about, 
but I was making my mark. Then the war came on and 
I enlisted. 

Uncle. You couldn't be a Denker and do anything 
but enlist in a case of that kind. 

Tom. When I came back people were a little too 
busy trying to adjust themselves to their former mode 
of living to bother their heads much about buying pic- 
tures, so I have had a pretty hard time of it. In fact, 
Bob and I both have, for he has been sharing things with 
me, what little I had to share. 

Uncle. But I don't see 

Tom. You will in a minute. I don't know what is 
making me tell you all this. Uncle, as I have had rather 
hard feelings toward you and I almost vowed I would 
have nothing further to do with you after — well, after 
father died and things were found in the muddle you say 
they were in. 

Uncle (clears throat). Er — ump — er — I 

Tom. Things came to a head this morning when Mrs. 
Reese told us that if we didn't pay up out we would go 
to-morrow night, bag and baggage. 

Uncle. Uh-huh ! Then the thirty-two dollars was for 
room rent, was it? And she isn't your housekeeper. 
She's your landlady. 

Tom. Yes. 

Uncle. No wonder she got indignant when I said 
she could hunt a new place. But you are surely not 
paying rent for all these rooms, are you? 

Tom. No. After I had written how well I was do- 
ing and of the beautiful studio I had, I didn't want you 
to find me out when you came so I borrowed the rooms 
for the occasion, just the same as I borrowed Liz. 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 87 

Aunt (enters l., followed by Elaine). Oh, Tom, 
Tom, why couldn't you tell me you were in difficulties 
and needed money? It was unnecessary for you to de- 
ceive me by telling me you were married. 

Uncle. Deceived you, my dear? 

Aunt. Yes, he told me he was married before he 
went to France in hopes that I would send him money 
for a wedding present, which I did, and which he used 
to pay his bills before he left. 

Uncle. The young jackanapes ! Borrowed the girl 
so you wouldn't find him out and then borrowed the 
house so I wouldn't. Pretty smooth. 

Bob (enters c. d., zvith Angela). Don't be grouchy, 
Angela. (Goes to Elaine.) Please tell her all about it, 
just like you did to me. I helped you out and it means 
so much to me. 

(Angela and Elaine converse silently.) 

Aunt (to Bob). And here's the other one. You 
rascal ! I must say, though, that you are a gentleman, 
the way you helped Elaine out. Come here and give me 
a kiss. (Bob kisses her, trying to watch Elaine and 
Angela at the same time.) There, be off with you! I 
can tell by the look on her face that your troubles are 
over. 

(Bob joins Angela and Elaine.) 

Uncle (steps on rug). Whoopee! (All turn toward 
him startled.) No, I'm not going crazy but that's just 
how I feel. Tom, your Aunt Alice and I were married 
this afternoon. 

Elaine. Oh, Aunt Alice! 

Tom. And you never told me? 

Aunt. There were lots of things happened you never 
told me, young man. 

Uncle. It's nothing to be surprised about. We 
should have been married thirty years ago. But that's 
not what I wanted to tell you, Tom. When you told me 
that you had decided to become a painter it was a great 
disappointment to me and I determined to see if you 



88 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

really meant it or if it was just a fad. Now, your father 
died worth about five hundred thousand dollars 

Tom (angrily). You 

Uncle. Wait a minute, wait a minute. (Mrs. R. 
enters c. d. ) As I said, your father died worth about 
five hundred thousand dollars but I held it back on you 
to see if you had the real stuff in you or not. I didn't 
want you to squander it on a lot of foolishness, but I 
see there isn't much danger of it, so I might as wxll turn 
it over to you. Any one that can pull off a stunt like you 
did to-day can handle his own affairs all right. The 
money's waiting for you in the First National Bank of 
Keokuk. 

Tom. Do you hear that, Elaine? I'm worth five hun- 
dred thousand dollars. 

Mrs. R. Oh, Mr. Tom, I'm that glad. Maybe now 
you can pay me that thirty-tw^o dollars that you owe 
me, for you see I have bills coming in right along. There 
was the ice man yesterday, five dollars and forty-two 
cents, the grocer man, thirty-eight dollars and twenty- 
seven cents, the butcher, fifteen dollars and sixty-two 
cents and (Tom looks toward Uncle.) 

Uncle. This is the third time I have started in to 
pay you off, now here it is. {Counts money to her.) 
Now get out, and for the love of the Lord don't bother 
us any more to-day. (Mrs. R. exits counting money. 
To Aunt.) Really, things haven't turned out so badly 
after all, have they, m}^ dear? {They turn and look at 
Tom and Elaine zvho are talking near zmndow, Bob and 
Angela l.) He's married her, just like you wanted 
him to and I'm sure I'm a happier man to-ni.G:ht for hav- 
ing come to New York. {They walk r. and talk.) 

Jerry {enters l. Walks up to Tom zvho has hack to 
audience). I say, old chap. Ever3^thing seems to have 
worked out all right for you. Don't you think you could 
fix me out with the price of a suit? I don't want to go 
around looking like a scarecrow all my life. (Tom 
makes no anszver. Jerry zuaits a moment and then goes 
to Bob.) How about fixing me out for the price of a 
suit, Bob? I see you have everything all fixed up with 



WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 89 

Angela, and considering- the fact that 1 — that I — that 

I {Seeing that Bob is not paying attention to him 

turns and in disgust goes to Uncle.) I really don't like to 
ask you, as I never met you until to-day, but I simply must 
have the price of a suit. You see mine was stolen from me 

last night in a hotel and — and — and (Uncle pays no 

attention to him.) Oh, dammit! {Starts l. and meets 
Liz and Bing zvho enter in deep conversation. They 
zvalk across stage and out R., Jerry zvalking he side them. 
He stares after them a moment and then comes c. Stands 
looking l. Mrs. Reese enters slowly counting her money. 
Walks toward Jerry without raising her eyes. Just us 
she gets to him she stops suddenly and begins to hunt 
through her pockets, etc., as though she had lost some- 
thing. Finally reaches in her bosom and pulls out a bill 
zvhich she adds to the bunch in her hand. Sighs deeply. 
Looks up and sees Jerry watching her. Shoves all the 
money in her bosom, holds hands over it and rushes out 
L. Jerry looks around again.) I say, what's the matter 
with everybody? {No one pays any attention to him.) 
TZan't anybody speak? {Grabs chair and throws it on 
floor making noise. All run toward him.) Come to 
life, did you? 

All. What's the matter, etc. 

Jerry. I just wanted to find out if there is any one 
here that would stake me to the price of a suit. You see 
mine was stolen last night at the hotel along with every- 
thing I possessed 

Angela. Bob was just telling me that it was through 
you he came after me. Dr. Smith, so I would consider 
it a privilege to help you out of your difficulty. 

Uncle. Doctor? Doctor Smith, did you say? 

Bob. Yes, Jerry just returned from France. Was 
over v/ith the Expeditionary Forces. 

Uncle. Are you located ? Have you a practice ? 

Jerry. With this suit? 

Uncle. They want a competent doctor in the Soldiers' 
Memorial Hospital in Keokuk and I know I can land 
you the place. Would you go ? 

Jerry. To Keokuk? 



90 WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND 

Uncle. Five thousand dollars a year. 

Jerry. Lead me to it. 

Uncle {puts arm around Jerry's shoulder and leads 
him and Aunt l.). You know I'm chairman of the 
Board of Directors and what I say goes, and I was just 
telling them before I left [They exit, l. 

Bob. By George ! Tom, I believe the old rug did bring 
us luck. 

Tom. Believe it did? I'm sure of it. 

Jerry (rushes in from L. excitedly and pidls coat and 
vest off Bob). Loan me your coat and vest, old man. 
I want to send a telegram to Keokuk and I have to go 
down street to do it. 

Bob. You got a nerve ! Here, give that back. 

Jerry. Just as soon as I get that telegram sent. I 
want to cinch that job. {Looks at himself after he has 
coat on. Then looks at Bob.) Bob, I hate to go out on 
the street with these pants. Can't you 

Bob {startled). Well, I should hope not. 

{Grabs Angela's hand and runs off CD.) 

Jerry. The boob ! I didn't expect him to take them 
off here. [Exit, c. d. 

Tom. Hasn't everything turned out beautifully? 

Elaine. Yes, dear. 

Tom {touching rug with his foot). That is going to 
be the most prized possession of the Thos. Denker family. 

Elaine. That old rug? Why? 

Tom. For one thing it has taught me to tell the truth 
and nothing but the truth, and then 

Elaine. Then, what? 

Tom {as he puts his arm around her and leads her R.). 
It was the means of me winning you, dear. 



CURTAIN 



LOST— A CHAPERON 

A Comedy in Three Acts by Courtney Bruerton and "W. S. Maulsby, 
Six male, nine female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an in 
terior and an exterior. Plays a full evening. A lot of college girls m 
camp lose their chaperon for twenty-four hours, and are provided by a 
camp of college boys across the lake with plenty of excitement. The parts 
are all good, the situations are very funny and the lines full of laughs. 
Recommended for high-school performance. price y 2^ cents 

THE PRIVATE TUTOR 

A Farce in Three Acts by E. J. Whisler. Five male, three female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two simple interiors. Plays two hours. 
Tells of the endeavors of two college boys to disguise the fact that they have 
been "rusticated" from the family of one of them. Hans Dinklederfe'-, 
the leader of a German band, trying to make good in the character of a 
private tutor, is a scream. All the parts are good. A capital high-school 
play. Price, 2^ cents 

THE REBELLION OF MRS. BARCLAY 

A Comedy of Domestic Life in Two Acts by May E. Countryman. 
Three male, six female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, easy 
interiors. Plays one hour and three-quarters. A clever and amusing 
comedy with all the parts evenly good. There are many Mr. Barclays all 
over this country, and Mrs. Barclay's method of curing her particular one 
will be sympathetically received. Gocd Irish comedy parts, male and fe- 
male. Strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

THE TRAMPS' CONVENTION 

An Entertainment in One Scene for Male Characters Only by Jessie A, 
Kelley. Seventeen male characters. Costumes, typical tramp dress ; 
scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and a half. An entertainment in 
the vaudeville class, with possibilities of unlimited fun. Music can be in 
troduced, if desired, though this is not necessary. The opening is very 
funny and original and the finish — The Ananias Club — can be worked up 
to any extent. Strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

THE DAY THAT LINCOLN DIED 

A Play in One Act by Prescott Warren and Will Hutchins. Five male, 
two female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy exterior. Plays 
thirty minutes. A very effective play suited for a Lincoln Day entertain- 
ment. It offers plenty of comedy, and is a piece that we can heartily 
recommend. Professional stage-rights reserved. Price, 25 cents 

PA'S NEW HOUSEKEEPER 

A Farce in One Act by Charles S. Bird. Three male, two female char- 
acters. Modern costumes ; scenery, a simple interior or none at all. Plays 
forty minutes. Jack Brown, visiting his chum, is tempted by his success 
in college theatricals to make up in the character of the new housekeeper, 
an attractive widow, who is expected but does not arrive. He takes in 
everybody and mixes things up generally. All the parts are first rate and 
the piece full of laughs. Strongly recommended. Price^ ij cents 



THE SUBMARINE SHELL 

A War Play in Four Acts 

By Mansfield Scott 

Seven males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. 

Plays two hours. Royalty for amateur performance ^lo.oo for one, 

$15.00 for two performances. Inspector Malcome Steele, of llie U. S. 

Secret Service, devotes Inmself in tliis thrilling play to unravelling the 

German plots that surround Prof. Middlebrook's submarine shell that is to 

bring the downfall of the Hun. The battle between his wils and those 

of " Tom Cloff," the German secret agent, is of absorbing interest. An 

easy and eflective thriller that can be recommended for school performance. 

Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Hans Kkaft, alias James Detective Albert Bradbury. 

Mc Grady. Inspector Malcome Steele. 

Otto Herman, alias William. "Tom Cloff." 

Mr. Warren Middlebkook. Mrs, Middlebrook. 

Monsieur Charles LeClair. Eleanor Middlebrook. 

Professor Henry Wester- Margaret Linden. 

BERG. Delia. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. Tlie living-room. August 11, after dinner. 
Act \\. Same as Act I. August 12, i : 30 P. m. 
Act hi. The private laboratory. That evening, 7 : 30. 
Act IV. Same as Act III. Later, 10 p. m. 

THE AMERICAN IDEA 

A Sketch in One Act 
By Lily Carthew 
Three males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an interior. 
Plays twenty minutes. Royalty for amateur performance ^5.00. Mignon 
Goldman, following the American Idea, throws off the parental yoke 
and marries the man of her choice and not the clioice of her paients. She 
brings home for the parental blessing John Kelly. Abe, her father, is 
disconsolate at this prospect until he sees John and recognizes in him Van 
Kele Operchinsky, rechristened in accordance with "The American 
Idea," Originally produced at The Peabody Playhouse, Boston. Strongly 
reconunended. Price, 2^ cents. 

THE CROWNING OF COLUMBIA 

A Patriotic Fantasy in One Act 
By Kat /trine F. Carlyo7i 
Twenty-five boys and twenty-four girls Costumes, modern and 
picturesque. Nothing required in the way of scenery but a platform. 
Plays half an hour or less. Columbia is approached by the Foresters, the 
Farmers, the Miners, the Pleasure Seekers, the Ammunition Workers and 
even the Red Cross Wtiikers, all asking her to be their Queen, but it is 
only when the Soldiers and the Red Cross Nurses come, asking nothing 
and giving all, that she yields. Easy, pretty, timely, and strongly recom- 
mended. Introduces music. Price^ fi^ cents 



TEDDY, OK, THE RUNAWAYS 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By Walter Ben Hare 

[^Originally produced at the Waldorf-Astoria, New York City ^ 

February j6, igi2.) 
Four males, four females. Scenery, a single interior ; costumes, mod 
ern. Plays two and a quarter hours. An eloping couple take refuge with 
the Junipers when their auto breaks down. The lady explains that they 
are being pursued by her brothers, so when a sheriff and posse arrive in 
pursuit of two thieves, Mrs. Juniper locks them down cellar to let the 
lovers escape. The sheriff gets out and arrests the Junipers whom he 
accuses of being the thieves. It finally appears that the lady is an author 
ess and that she and her husband are posing as thieves in order to get ma- 
terial for a novel. Full of action ; characters all good; lots of comedy; 
strongly recommended. 

Price, 2 J cents 

CHARACTERS 
Jean MacLean, Little Miss Fixit. 
Mrs. Juniper, a Young Wife. 
Victoria, the Girl in the Taxi. 
Texan A, the Girl of the Golden West. 
Max Juniper, the Perplexed Husband. 
Alonzo Willing, the Fo?'time Hunter, 
Ted Keegan, the Man on the Box. 
Sheriff Jim Larrabee, Officer 666. 
Two Deputy Sheriff's 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I.— Living room at Max Juniper's house on a Texas ranch. 
Spring time. 

Act II. — Same as Act I. The great diamond robberv. 
Act III.— Same as Acts I and II. The thunderbolt. ' 



WANTED— A PITCHER 

A Farce in One Act 

By M. N. Beebe 
Eleven males. Scenery not important ; costumes, modern. Plays half an 
hour. Hank Dewberry, the crack pitcher of the home nine, is kept from 
the championship game by his skinflini father who wantshim to do the hay- 
ing. Hank's friends try to find a substitute pitcher, with humorous but 
unsatisfactory results. The elder Dewberry finally releases Hank when 
one of the players shows him how to win the county championship at 
checkers, on which he sets his heart. Hebrew, Irish, ItaHan and " hay 
seed " comedy character parts. Recommended. 
Price^ 75 cents 



RED ACRE FARM 

A Rural Comedy Drama in Three Acts by Gordan V. May. Seven 
males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior, one exte^ 
rior. Plays two hours. An easy and entertaining play with a well-bal« 
?.nced cast of characters. The story is strong and sympathetic and the 
comedy element varied and amusing. Barnaby Strutt is a great part for 
•\ good comedian ; " Junior " a close second. Strongly recommended. 
Pricey 2^ cents 

THE COUNTRY MINISTER 

A Comedy Drama in Five Acts by Arthur Lewis Tubbs. Eight males^ 
five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery not difficult. Plays a full even 
mg. A very sympathetic piece, of powerful dramatic interest ; strong and 
varied comedy relieves the serious plot. Ralph Underwood, the minister, 
is a great part, and Roxy a strong soubrette ; all parts are good and full 
of opportunity. Clean, bright and strongly recommended. 
Pricey 2^ cents 

THE COLONEL'S MAID 

A Comedy in Three Acts by C. Leona Dalrymple. Six males, three 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays a full even- 
ing. An exceptionally bright and amusing comedy, full of action ; all the 
parts good. Capital Chinese low comedy part ; two first-class old men. 
This is a very exceptional piece and can be strongly recommended. 
P> ice, 2^ cento 

MOSE 

A Comedy in Three Acts by C. W. Miles, Eleven males, ten females. 
Scenery, two interiors ; costumes, modern. Plays an hour and a half. A 
lively college farce, full of the true college spirit. Its cast is large, but 
many of the parts are small and incidental. Introduces a good deal of 
singing, which will serve to lengthen the performance. Recommended 
highly for co educational colleges. Price ^ 75 cents 

OUR WIVES 

A Farce in Three Acts by Anthony E. Wills. Seven males, four fe- 
males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours and 
a half. A bustling, up-to-date farce, full of movement and action ; all 
the parts good and effective ; easy to produce ; just the thing for an ex- 
perienced amateur club and hard to spoil, even in the hands of less 
practical players. Free for amateur performance. Price, 2j cents 

THE SISTERHOOD OF BRIDGET 

A Farce in Three Acts by Robert Elwin Ford. Seven males, six fe- 
males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, easy interiors. Plays two hours. 
An easy, effective and very humorous piece turning upon the always in- 
teresting servant girl question. A very unusual number of comedy parts; 
*11 the parts goo J, Easy to get up and well recommended. Price^ 2j cenU 



THE SLACKER 

A Patiiot'.c Play in One Act 
By Jewell Bothwell Tull 
Two male, seven female characters. Scene, an interior; costumes, 
modern and military. Plays forty minutes. The hero, beyond the draft 
age, has not enlisted because he deems it to be his widowed mother's wish 
and his sweetheart's preference, as well as his own duty not to do so. He 
tries on the uniform of a friend who is going, "just to be in it once," and 
I)t;ing discovered, finds to his surprise that both his mother and his fiancee 
have been miserable under the charge that he is a " slacker " and are re- 
joiced to have him make good. Picturesque, patriotic, dramatic— -an ideal 
play for a Red Cross Entertainment. Strongly recommended. 
- Price , 23 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Grant Moore. Mrs. Smith, his inother. 

Mrs. Moore, his mother. Ella Brown, his sweetheart. 

Betty Caldwell, his fiancee, Mrs. Ralph. 
Benny Smith, a young lieu- Mrs. Elton. 
tenant. Mrs. Jones. 

Other ladies and girls of the Marsville Red Cross Society. 

A ROMANCE IN PORCELAIN 

A Comedy in One Act 
By Rudolph Raphael 
Three males, one female. Scene, an interior ; costumes, modern. 
Plays twenty minutes. Cecilia and Clarence, engaged to marry, resort to 
Dr. Spencer before the knot is tied to secure a new upper set. Their troub- 
les in concealing their errand from each other reach a climax when both 
sets are stolen and the truth has to come out. Very funny and heartily 
recommended. Price, 2^ cents 

A PROFESSIONAL VISIT 

A Comedy in One Act 
By Rudolph Raphael 
Two males, one female. Scene, an interior ; costumes, modern. James 
Winthrop, impecunious, calls upon his old friend, Dr. Raleigh, also hard 
vip, to discuss the situation, and ends by getting engaged to the Doctor's 
landlady, a rich widow, who calls to collect the rent. Very swift work. 
Recommended. Price, 23 cents 

THE GO-BETWEEN 

A Dramatic Comedy Playlet 

By Harry L. Newton 

One male, two females. Scene, an interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 

twenty minutes. Hezekiah, jilted on the eve of his wedding to Muriel, a 

heartless adventuress, who has rrined him, is rescued from suicide by 

Jane, a country sweetheart, in a capital little piece, mingling humor and 

pathos most adroitly. Strongly recommended. 

Price, 2^ cents 



TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE 

An Entertainment in One Act by Jessie A. Kelley. Fourteen males, 
eight females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour 
and a half. One of the always popular go-as-you-please entertainments ; 
lust a lot of laughs strung on a very slender wire of story. Full of eccen- 
tric character bits and chances for local hits. A sure success for the 
laughter-loving. Recommended for cliurch societies or intimate com- 
munities. Price, 2^ cents 

MISS PRIM'S KINDERGARTEN 

An Entertainment in One Scene by Jessie A. Kelley. Ten males 
eleven females. No scenery or curtain needed; costumes introduce 
grown people dressed as children. Plays an hour and a half. Full oi 
laughs and a sure hit with the audience. All the parts very easy excejJt 
the Teacher's, and as it is possible for her to use a book, the entertain 
ment can be got up with exceptional ease and quickness. Can be recom- 
\nended. Price, 2j cents 

THE PACKING OF THE HOME MIS- 
SIONARY BARREL 

An Entertainment in One Scene by Mrs, Henry A. Hallock. Ten fe- 
males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays tliirty minuter. 
One of those little satires of feminine ways that are so popular even with 
the ladies; very shrewd and effective, but perfectly good-natured. An as 
sured success and very easy to get up. Strongly recommended. 
Price, IS cents 

A MODERN SEWING SOCIETY 

An Entertainment in One Scene by O. W. Gleason Fourteen females. 
Costumes, modern ; no scenery required. May be easily presented on a 
bare platform. Plays forty five minutes. A humorous picture of this 
much-abused institution, briskly and vivaciously written and full ol 
-• points." Its characters offer a wide variety of opportunity for local hits, 
and satire of local characters and institutions. Price, /j cents 

HOW THE CLUB WAS FORMED 

An Entertainment in Three Scenes by Mrs. O. W. Gleason. Eighteen 
females. Costumes, modern; scenery, unimportant. Plays one and a 
half hours. A humorous skit on the Woman's Club suited for perform- 
ance by either young or middle-aged women. Full of points and chances 
for local hits and thus a sure laugh-maker. Parts well distributed ; can 
be recom inended. Price, /j" cents 

SCENES IN THE UNION DEPOT 

A Humorous Entertainment in One Scene by Laura M. Parsons. 
Twenty four males, eighteen females and eight children, but can be played 
by less if desired. Scenery, unimportant; costumes, modern. Full o/ 
humorous points and chances lo introduce local hits. Plays from an houi 
op, according to specialties introduced Price, 2^ cents 



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15c 


M n 


The Romancers 




I 


2 « 


25c 


M C 


The Rose and the RIof 


5 


,^ « 


25c 


« ■ 


Sally Lnnn 




4 


i;4 " 


2SC 


M p 


The School for Scandal 




4 


2>^ - 


15c 


M C 


She Stoops to Conquer 




4 


2^ " 


15c 


** r 


Step Lively 




ID 


2 <« 


25c 


M M 


The Submarine Shell 




4 


2 «• 


25c 


Special IT 


The Thirteenth Star 




9 


I>^ « 


250 


Free f 


The Time of His Ufe 


6 


3 


2>^ " 


2SC 


** D 


Tommy's Wife 


3 


5 


l/z " 


25c 


M C 


The Twig of Thorn 


6 


7 


I>^ ** 


6OC 


M P 


For ** special " royalties, see 


catalogue descriptions for 




detailed information. 






BAKER, 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass. i 


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